


An Impulsive Decision

by MotherOftheUniverse



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Adult Dipper Pines, Adult Mabel Pines, Aliens, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Bill Cipher Being Bill Cipher, Bill Cipher is a Jerk, Canonical Character Death, Dipper Pines is a Good Brother, F/F, F/M, Ford Pines' Portal Adventures, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Inter-Dimensional Adventures, Inter-dimensional travel, M/M, Mabel Pines is a Good Sister, Mabel Pines' Sweaters, Minor Character Death, Older Dipper Pines, Older Mabel Pines, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Paranoid Ford Pines, Post-Portal Incident (Gravity Falls), Pre-Portal Incident (Gravity Falls), Protective Ford Pines, Protective Siblings, Stan Pines Angst, Stan Pines Goes Through The Portal, Stan Pines Has Low Self-Esteem, Stan Pines Needs A Hug, Stan Pines is a Good Brother, Stan Pines-centric, Stangst, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:53:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 38,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23210524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MotherOftheUniverse/pseuds/MotherOftheUniverse
Summary: The portal was sucking his brother in, taking him away from Stanley. It didn't matter how much they fought. It didn't matter what he'd done; Stanford was his brother. And Stanley wouldn't loose him again.So he entered the portal with him.~~38 years after the disappearance of their grandfather's brothers, Dipper and Mabel turn on the portal, and two old men step out.Now all that's left are the consequences.
Relationships: Dipper Pines & Ford Pines, Dipper Pines & Ford Pines & Mabel Pines & Stan Pines, Dipper Pines & Mabel Pines, Dipper Pines & Stan Pines, Ford Pines & Mabel Pines, Ford Pines & Original Character(s), Ford Pines & Stan Pines, Mabel Pines & Stan Pines, Pacifica Northwest/Dipper Pines, Stan Pines & Original Character(s), Stan Pines/Original Character(s)
Comments: 69
Kudos: 96





	1. Dry Anger / Dipper and Mabel's Guide to Opening Portals

**Author's Note:**

> Well the world is going down in chaos because nature sucks, and most of us are now confined to our homes. 
> 
> No matter, gives me time to write shit like this. 
> 
> Now, about a month or two ago, I made this picture and put it on Tumblr: https://motheroftheuniverse-art.tumblr.com/post/190765240748/sequel-to-this-in-this-au-both-stan-and-ford-go
> 
> This fic is directly in line with that picture/au. I'll also be posting this story on my Tumblr art blog for good measures. 
> 
> I call it the Impulsive Decision AU

It didn’t matter what happened in the past. It didn’t matter that it’d been over ten years since they had last seen each other. It didn’t matter that the last image he had of his beloved twin brother was that of him closing the curtains. Stanford Pines had sent him a call for help. And Stanley was going to answer. 

The snow seems to soak into his boots. They’re well worn, and kinda cruddy to begin with, so he’s not surprised. Even so, he liked wet socks as much as the next person, and it’s getting cold. 

The scars from the last time he’d gotten into a _situation_ have yet to heal. The poor self-stitching on a knife wound in the abdomen threatens to rip with each stride he takes. He hadn’t slept in a while. He hadn’t eaten in longer. Honestly, if he died on the porch of his brother's house at that very moment, he wouldn’t be surprised. Life _would_ be that cruel to him, wouldn’t it?

He made it to the porch without incident, thankfully enough. 

The door looms before him, and Stan can feel multiple layers of dread curling up inside his stomach. Everything hurts in new ways. He’s scared, but he doesn’t know what for. 

The worst that can happen was being rejected again. Not like that would _kill_ him. Well, not physically, at least. 

He wasn’t sure how he’d react if his brother turned him away. He didn’t want to know. Hopefully, he’d never have to know. 

“You haven’t seen your brother in over ten years. It’s okay. He’s family. He won’t bite,” He whispers to himself. His left hand tightens around the strap to his duffle bag, which had contained almost everything he owned since he was seventeen, and his father threw him out, with nothing but a pre-packed bag. With his right hand, he takes a leap of faith, and knocks on the door. 

It opens seconds later, and he finds a rather deadly looking crossbow shoved inches away from his nose. If he were any closer to it, it would’ve scratched the tip of it. An additional injury to the fading scar that traveled between his eyes, over the bridge of his nose. He’d gotten that one in prison when he was nineteen. It wasn’t his first scar, but it’d been the first incident when his life _seriously_ started to go downhill, as if he hadn’t already reached rock bottom. 

“Who is it?! Have you come to steal my eyes?!” Came a frantic, but very familiar shout. 

His brother’s voice hadn’t changed a bit. 

“Well, I can always count on you for a warm welcome,” He almost laughed, rolling his eyes. It seemed as if Ford’s people skills had only got worse in their time apart.

* * *

“Alright, now all we need is about a thousand gallons of radioactive toxic waste,” 

Mabel looked over to her brother, who stared back at her with an incredulous look on his face. He let out a loud groan. “He just _couldn’t_ make this easy for us, could he?” 

19-year-old twins Mabel and Dipper Pines had spent the majority of their childhood trying to fix the machine in their cabins basement. It’d been their pet project ever since they were twelve, and had visited Gravity Falls for the first time. 

Their grandfather; Sherman Pines, had told them the story of his younger brothers; a pair of twins, identical in all physical features except for one holding six fingers and the other holding the normal amount of five. 

Grandpa Shermie would go on about these two boys for hours, talking to Mabel and Dipper about how much his grandchildren reminded him of his beloved baby brothers. 

Dipper was like Stanford; a bright mind, always curious, always asking questions. Eager to learn; eager to do, eager to experience. 

Mabel was like Stanley; full of energy and personality. The protector; the starlight; always so warm and supportive. Full of life and full of love. 

The last time anyone had seen either of the brothers was winter. The only hint as to where they went was the mysterious town of Gravity Falls. 

It was enough to peak the twins' interest. 

They visited Gravity Falls when they were 12 years old. Over the years, the twins raided the old cabin that used to belong to Stanford, found all the journals that contained the instructions on how to open the portal, and scoured through the journals over and over for secrets. They’d met every anomaly, scoured every cave, even explored every inch of Crash Sight Omega. The secrets of Gravity Falls had become theirs. All of this would lead to the biggest achievement of a lifetime (or at least _their_ lifetime); Rescuing their fabled Great Uncles from another dimension. 

They had set up the portal. Read every schematic; gotten it working twenty times over, gravity disruptions and alien technology aside. All they needed now was the energy to _really_ punch the hole and reach the other dimension. Then they could save Stanley and Stanford. 

All they needed was toxic waste. 

This was going to be a long day. 

They had come across so much _bullshit_ during their mission. Dipper knew this should be the _least_ of their problems, but it was still an infuriating annoyance. 

“Goddamn it, it’s three in the morning, Mabel,” He complained. “Not enough coffee in the world can make me wanna deal with this bullshit,” 

“Three in the morning _is_ actually the perfect time to be raiding government facilities,” Mabel pointed out. “Though, your probably right about us needing more sleep before we do that,” 

“You don’t suppose Wendy and her gang could help us out,” Dipper asked. 

“They helped us get away with worse,” Mabel says with a shrug, before shuttering. “I’ll never forget having to hide that body,” 

Dipper bent his head solemnly; “Rest in Peace Forever, Mr. Poolcheck. Rest in Peace forever,” 

The twins held a moment of silence for the man who had been accidentally murdered (not by _them_ , of course, but it’s not like they could really _prove_ it wasn’t them). 

“You don’t suppose the gnomes would be willing to help,” Mabel mentioned. “I mean, they did say they’d never help us again after the _Killbilly vs. Manator_ incident, but we do have some cool shit we can bribe them with,” 

“And Pacifica does owe us one. Or five,” Dipper brought up. 

“Aww, you wouldn’t sell out your girlfriend to gnomes that easily, would you?” Mabel teased.

“She’s not my— Whatever,” Dipper gripped. “I don’t give enough fucks at the moment to argue with you,” 

“Awe, but Dipshit,” Mabel quipped. “That’s no fun,” 

“You see this Mabel?” The boy asked, holding out his middle finger. “This is for you,” 

“Cool, now I can give you three,” Mabel said with a smile.

Dipper couldn’t help but laugh. It was three in the morning, and he was surviving off of coffee and spite, but somehow, Mabel always knew how to lighten his mood. She was always there to make him happy, no matter what. All he needed was Mabel, and all Mabel needed was Dipper. 

Grandpa Shermie had told them the story of the ten-year fall out between the Stan twins (Mabel had come up with the brilliant nickname). Dipper honestly didn’t get it; how could one go so long without talking to their sibling? He couldn’t imagine the same thing happening between him and Mabel. It always bothered him, whenever he read his great uncle’s journals, that he could possibly talk about his brother with such a casual disregard. The first journal especially held a lot of petty insults, most likely because the wound was still fresh, and Stanford would’ve still been bitter about the crappy college he went to (In his great uncle’s defense, Dipper _had_ decided he’d rather not go to college at all then go to Backupsmore). He could never understand how any sibling could possibly be “suffocating”, unless the author had been talking in a more literal sense, though evidence suggested otherwise. (Mabel had almost choked him to death on more than one occasion with her hugs. _That_ was a kind of “suffocating” he could understand, even if it did nothing to hinder the bond between the two of them). 

He guessed it all stemmed down to one fact; He and Mabel, while they were much like Stanford and Stanley respectively, at least according to Shermie, were still two entirely different people. An eerily similar event to the one that drove the brother’s apart had happened to Dipper and Mabel, and it proved that. Mabel was better at apologizing, and Dipper was better at forgiving. 

That, and Dipper would _never, ever_ turn his back on his twin. That was a vow he made to her at a young age, and he would keep it forever. _Nothing_ would make him break it. No matter what. 

They were nineteen now. It’d been three years since they’re foster parents had kicked them to the curb (technically they kicked Mabel out, not him, but like hell he was letting her face the streets alone), and since then, the kids had been making a pretty decent living for themselves in Gravity Falls. 

They’d transformed the creepy and decrepit cabin that held the portal into a pretty decent museum of supernatural shit (holding both fake _and_ real attractions. They had learned to balance the ratio after trying to put a Gremgoblin on display). It reeled in a decent amount of money, and once they’d gotten the Society of the Blind Eye off their back (Which had surprisingly been one of the _least_ dangerous task they’d come across while trying to complete their project), the citizens of Gravity Falls had made sure that their little museum got all the attention it possibly could. (The endorsement they’d blackmailed the Northwest into giving them also helped). Plus, they had collected a _lot_ of gold after they raged war against the unicorns. 

It’d been eight years since they started their project. Eight years since curiosity over the family disappearance had prompted the kids to pay a visit to Gravity Falls and learn about what happened. Eight years since Dipper had come across the Third Journal by chance. Eight years since they had gotten that creepy kid to give them the Second Journal. Six years since Mabel figured out how to make a freaking _dream demon_ give them what they needed without any strings attached (one of the most impressive things she’d ever done, and she’d done _a lot_ of impressive things). All they needed was the radioactive waste, and their hard work would pay off. They’d rescue two individuals from another dimension. And they could finally meet their grandpa’s little brothers, of whom they heard so much about. 

Mabel stretched her limbs out, causing the clicking noises that Dipper had always found unsettling but had simply learned to deal with. She yawned, indicating that, despite being the more energetic one, she was just as tired as Dipper. “Now, how about we go to bed, and tomorrow we go steal some of the government’s shit,” 

Dipper scooped up the small collection of coffee mugs he’d made over the day. The cans of energy drink Mabel used to keep herself up could stay littered on the floor. (She usually never picked them up anyways, and he didn’t feel like doing so _for_ her at the moment). “Yeah,” he replied to his twin. “Let’s do that,”

* * *

Stanford lowered the crossbow upon seeing the face of his brother. 

They looked exactly alike, which doesn’t help to settle Stanley’s nerves at all. He’s homeless, been in and out of prison, and he’d just escaped the bad end of an operation to smuggle drugs gone entirely wrong. He’s unshaven, hadn’t taken a shower in three days, and hadn’t been able to shampoo his hair in even longer. Speaking of hair, it’d grown into a greasy mullet. He felt gross, and probably looked gross too. 

Ford shouldn’t look like him. But here his brother is; wearing disheveled and dirty clothes, with an unshaven face, and a miles worth of bags under his bloodshot eyes. His hair is disheveled and in desperate need of a wash, and he smells like decay. 

Ford shouldn’t look like this. He should be healthy, living in his private cabin with his grandiose research grant, going out into the sun, maybe getting some actual human interaction for once in his life. Stan can’t exactly say Ford looks worse than _himself_ at the moment (after all, one of them had several facial scars, and the other didn’t), but he still doesn’t look good. 

_Jeez_ _, what happened to you, Poindexter_? The words are on the tip of Stanley’s tong; they are teasing and familiar. But he hadn’t seen his brother in years. How long had it been? Ten? Twelve? Teasing and familiarity didn’t seem safe at the moment. 

Luckily for him, Ford spoke first. “Stanley, did anyone follow you? Anyone at all?” His voice is laced with thick amounts of paranoia. 

“Eh, hello to you, too, pal,” Stan spoke out, feeling a little bit more than just weirded out with this situation. Ford had always been a bit suspicious. It always took longer for him to trust other people than it did for Stanley (though years on the streets quickly changed that). But this was just the tiniest bit ridiculous. After all, Ford’s eyes are darting side to side, as if he’s afraid someone is watching them. 

_You live in the middle of nowhere, Ford, who the hell’d be watching us?_

Ford quickly pulls Stan inside his house, shutting the door, and roughly pulling Stan to eye level, shining a flashlight in each of his eyes. Stan shouts out in protest, his instincts screaming at him that he’s being attacked. Usually, that’s what would always be happening whenever somebody manhandles him like that. 

_It’s just Ford, it’s just Ford, it’s just Ford…_

“Sorry, I just had to make sure you weren’t…” Ford tried explaining before trailing off. “Uh, it’s nothing. Come in, come in,” 

He walked further into the house, rather stiffly. Stan wondered after him, confusion buzzing in his head. 

“Uh, you gonna explain what’s going on here? You’re acting like Mom after her tenth cup of coffee,” 

Ford shuffled through papers on his desk, before grabbing onto a book bound in red leather, holding it close to his chest. He peers around his shoulder, looking wild for a second. It took a long moment for sanity to come back into them. 

“Listen, there isn’t much time,” He started his explanation. “I’ve made a huge mistake, and I don’t know who I can trust anymore,” 

The moment he says this, he turns to a fake skeleton that’s “staring” at them, and turns it’s head away. If Stan wasn’t worried about his brother before, he _definitely_ is now. 

“Hey, uh, easy there,” Stan tried to reach out, placing a comforting hand on his brother’s back. He was always doing these little motions to sooth his brother when they were teenagers. Ford would panic, and Stan could calm him down, with a comforting voice and a comforting touch. It was his job. It was something he was good at. Even if he was terrible at everything else, he was good at being Ford’s brother. “Let’s talk this through, okay?” 

They weren’t teenagers anymore. 

“I have something to show you,” Ford told him, his voice serious. But there is also something raw underneath. A sadness that Stan can’t quite place. He wants to make things better. That’s all he ever wants. “Something you won’t believe,” 

“Look, I’ve been around the world, okay? Whatever it is, I’ll understand,”

* * *

“This place is wicked,” Wendy exclaimed, looking through the barbed-wire fence that kept the outside from the government sanctioned nuclear power-plant, which was located only a few miles away from Gravity Falls. 

“Are you sure you guys wanna help us?” Dipper asked the group of college students that had been a part of Wendy’s friend group since they’d met her. “I mean, you guys have done enough for us already,” 

Wendy was the red-haired daughter of lumberjack Dan Corduroy; the manliest man in the town. She was also _easily_ the coolest person they’d ever met. She and her friends had been a great help in their mission, doing whatever they could to get the twins closer to saving their great uncles. From fighting shape-shifters, to punching their way through alien security, to hiding the body of the local murdered pool manager, Dipper and Mabel could always count on Wendy and her gang to help them through. 

“Oh, come on, dude,” Wendy laughed, punching Dipper in the arm. “You think we’re _not_ gonna see this through to the end?” 

“Your weird science project has been the funnest thing we’ve ever participated in ever,” One of her friends says; a tall boy with a blond mullet named Lee, “So what, it's been trouble? It’s something we’re happy to do,” 

“Speak for yourselves!” Snapped their larger, more nervous friend, Thompson. “I’m just doing this because everyone else is,” 

“I say Thompson climbs the fence first,” Their punk-ish friend, Tambry, challenges, not looking up from her phone. 

“You think the fence is electric?” Asked Nate; a tall boy with dark skin, and Lee’s ~~boyfriend~~ best friend, sounding a little too excited about the amount of danger the question posed. 

“Only one way to test that out,” Mabel said confidently, as if accepting a challenge. She picks an old tree branch off the ground, wielding it like a technologically advanced multi-purpose tool. “We poke it with a stick!” 

Mabel touched the fence with her weapon of choice, and instantly, a spike of blue electricity traveled from the fence, and through the stick, shocking the girl at the other end. Mabel fell down, her face and hands coated in minor burns, and the ends of her hair singed off. 

“Mabel!” Her brother shouts out in concern, rushing to his twin’s side.

Mabel simply coughs out some smoke, and stands up like it was nothing. “Yep, definitely electric!” She cheers.

“Yeash,” Laughed their emo friend, Robbie, staring at Mabel in amazement and a tiny bit of fear. “Are you even capable of death or something?” 

“I drink about ten cans of immortalizing drinks every day,” Mabel explained. 

Dipper rolled his eyes. “Red Bull isn’t an immortalizing drink, Mabel,” 

“It gives you wings!” 

“It gives you acid indigestion,” 

“So how _are_ we going to get over the fence?” Lee asks, bring them back to the subject at hand. 

Wendy rubs her chin, taking a second to think. “We could do the Thompson Lift-off,” She suggested. 

“Oh, guys, please, not the Thompson Lift-off,” Thompson protested as his friends gathered around him. 

But it was too late, as they had already grabbed him. And with a few hearty swings, Thompson was launched into the air and over the fence, landing on his butt on the other side. 

“Now go find a way to turn the electricity off!” Wendy demanded. “Come on, Thompson, we’re counting on you,”

“Oh jeez, ok,” Thompson whimpered out, and started running off towards what looked like the generator. 

“Thompson! Thompson! Thompson!” The group chanted, pumping their fist in the air, as their own unique way of wishing their friend good luck. 

The group waited, wondering if their friend was gonna come back anytime soon. Mabel and Wendy threw rocks and sticks at the fence every so often, only to see it spark. 

“We should’ve thrown Dipper over the fence,” Robbie lamented. 

“Yeah, I’d rather you guys not,” Dipper grumbled back. 

Wendy lets out a frustrated groan. “What’s taking him so long!?” 

“Do you think he was captured by the government guys?” Tambry joked. 

“I don’t think so,” Dipper said, rubbing his chin, considering the possibility. “I mean, this place isn’t _empty_ , but it’s not like that many people work here,” 

“Are you sure you need toxic sludge?” Robbie complained. “Wouldn’t unicorn shit work just as well?” 

“Like hell I’m gonna go collecting the poop of those bitches,” Mabel spat out bitterly. Her rivalry with the unicorns was a story all of it's own. 

“Plus, it wouldn’t work,” Dipper spoke up, before diving into the scientific explanation as to why unicorn feces would not power up the portal, to which his friends started to either groan, tune him out, or both. Mabel even went as far as to gripe “Shut up, nerd,” at him, though he ignored her. 

The alarm for the facility suddenly went off, red lights flashing through the night and blaring sounds cutting into the group's ears. 

On the bright side, it did shut Dipper up. 

“Shit!” Wendy cursed. “Thompson fucked up. We’re gonna need a different plan!” 

“Dammit Thompson!” Lee cursed. 

“Way to fuck up the mission, Thompson!” Nate shouted out, despite knowing Thompson wasn’t anywhere close enough to hear him. 

“Guys, toss me, Mabel, and Dipper over to the other side of the fence,” Wendy commanded. “We’ll get the waste, and try to find Thompson, then we’ll meet you back here. If you see people running at you, ditch us!” 

“If you have to leave Thompson behind, we won’t hold it against you,” Robbie promised the three of them, before the group grabbed Mabel, and threw her over the fence.

* * *

“There is _nothing_ about this I understand,” 

A giant, triangular _structure_ loomed over the room, casing it in a faded blue light. It’s an impressive contraption, complete with symbols of ancient and unknown origin decorated across the circular hole inside. It holds an energy that Stan doesn't like. The hair on the back of his neck is sticking up on edge. 

He caught Ford rolling his eyes, much to his annoyance. “It’s a trans-universal gateway, a punched hole through a weak spot in our dimension,” _An interdimensional portal. Why not?_ Stan almost laughs. “But it could just as easily be harnessed for terrible destruction. That’s why I shut it down and hid my journals, which explain how to operate it,” 

A world ending crisis. _That’s_ what’s got Ford so paranoid. And Stan wants to laugh because of _course_ Ford would make something that could possibly end the world; that stupid, brilliant genius, with his beautiful and _stupid_ brain. When Stan was young, he believed that Ford could do anything. But he grew up, and became cynical. He had to be realistic; Ford was just a human being. Sure, he could invent a perpetual-motion machine for some _stupid_ science fair, but he had limits. 

No, it appears his brother didn’t. Like the hero of some science fiction movie; Ford had managed to do the impossible. 

A warm nostalgia crept into him. It’d been so long, but it appeared that Ford hadn’t changed a bit. 

“There’s only one journal left,” Ford continues. “And you are the only person I can trust to take it,” Ford handed him the red book, which Stan could now see had a gold handprint, the same size and shape as his brother’s own six finger palms. _The only person I can trust…_ After all this time, Ford trusted his brother. Whatever was going on; whatever trouble Ford had landed himself in with that brilliant, stupid brain of his, they where going to figure it out together. 

_Wherever we go…_

“I have something to ask of you,” Ford says, his voice pleading and desperate. “You remember our plans to sail around the world on a boat?” 

Stan’s heart caught in his throat. Ford had called him here to help him. He’d been called here because his brother trusted him. He forgave him. They were going to be together at last. Things were going to be ok. 

He’s so happy he can cry. _Things are finally going to be ok!_

“Take this book, get on a boat, and sail as far away as you can! To the edge of the earth! Bury it where no one can find it,” 

As soon as the happiness came, it left. 

_Sail as far away as you can._

Then what? _Then what!?_ Would he just disappear? Was that what Ford wanted? For his brother to fall off the edge of the earth with nothing but a book and a dead dream? 

He spent two days driving to this middle-of-nowhere town. Left the moment he read Ford’s letter. Didn’t stop for anything but gas; not sleep, nor food (not like he could’ve afforded the food anyways). Took no breaks. 

It didn’t matter what happened in the past. It didn’t matter that it’d been ten years since they had last seen each other. It didn’t matter that the last image he had of his beloved twin brother was that of him closing the curtains. Stan rushed to Ford’s side the moment his brother had asked him too. Like some dog crawling back to his master after having been kicked. 

Tears gathered in the corner of Stan’s eyes, but for entirely different reasons. 

“That’s _it!?”_ He shouts out. “You finally wanna see me after ten years, and it’s to tell me to get as far away from you as possible!” 

“Stanley, you don’t understand what I’ve been up against! What I’ve been through!” Ford lectures, as if that was supposed to make things better. 

He’d been screwed over, rejected, and betrayed by _so_ many people. Nothing could possibly hurt more than this. 

“No, no! You don’t understand what _I’ve_ been through!!” He’s practically screaming now. Because _this wasn’t how it was supposed to go,_ and _he’s stupid for thinking it would’ve happened any other way_ . What was he expecting, some stupid happily ever after? _What was I_ **_expecting_ ** _?!_

“I’ve been to prison in three different countries!” 

Two times in America, once in Mexico, and once in Columbia. He remembered meeting Rico for the first time when he was nineteen. _“I’ll give you my protection,_ chico mono, _but I expect you to make it worth my while,”_

“I once had to chew my way out of the trunk of a car!” 

They had found him, beat him up, and used him as their personal plaything before finally tying his wrist together with barbed wire, shoving him in the trunk of an old car, and driving it out into the desert, before leaving him to die. He couldn’t get his hands out of the wires; they had clawed their way into his skin. He had to use his teeth. 

“You think you’ve got problems? I’ve got a mullet, Stanford!” 

He’d been beaten up too many times to count. He still had fresh stitches in his abdomen after Jorge forced him to swallow pellets of cocaine so they could smuggle it across the border. He’d been violated in so many horrible ways, and abused by so many people, who claimed that they were the only one’s who’d ever love a disgusting creature like him. And where was Ford in all this? Why had Stan been made to feel unloved by his own brother? And who was the bastard to give him hope, only to rip it away from him?! _It_ _wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair, damnit!_

“Meanwhile, where have you been? Living it up in your fancy house in the woods, selfishly hoarding your college money, because you only care about yourself!” 

“I’m selfish? I’m selfish, Stanley? How can you say that after costing me my dream school!?” Ford replied roughly. Stan gritted his teeth, wondering how much screaming he could possibly do before Ford finally got the point. 

His brother hadn’t changed a bit. He was still the petty, grudge-holding, arrogant asshole who cared about nobody but himself. 

_You never cared about me, didn’t you?! All those years I spent caring about_ you _, and you didn’t give a damn about me!_

He’s about to say that, about to shout in his brother’s face. Tell him of all the ways Ford had hurt him. But Ford beat him to it. 

“I’m giving you the chance to do the first worthwhile thing in your life, and you won’t even listen!”

Oh… 

So that was how he felt. 

Well, fuck that, and _fuck him!!_ “Well, listen to this! You want me to get rid of this book? Fine, I’ll get rid of it right now!!” 

He grabbed his lighter, and held the flame to the book, hoping the damn thing would turn to ashes. 

“No!” Ford shouted, grabbing onto it. Stan took the journal back with ease. 

“You said you wanted me to have it, so I’ll do what I want with it!” He moved to light it up again. 

“MY RESEARCH!!” Ford suddenly screamed, something almost feral to his voice. Before Stan could process what was happening, Ford had jumped on him. The shock of the movement caused him to crash to the ground, and the journal flew out of his hands. Ford made a grab for it. 

_If it’s a fight you want, then it’s a fight you're gonna get!!_

Stan tripped his brother over, grabbing onto the book himself, staring Ford down; challenging him to take it away from him. He didn’t even want the stupid book in the first place, but if Ford was willing to get physical for it, who was Stan to deny his brother? After all, physical fights were always his forte. Fights with words would sting and bite. He’d never win those, and even if he did, the damage to his own self-worth would be irreversible. He’d been stomped into the dirt, over and over again. At least when the fight was physical, he could punch back. 

“Stanley, give it back,” Ford demanded, jumping at him once again. 

The two of them crashed through the door into the portal’s control room, their backs landing and dragging across buttons and switches. Wind and electricity was thick in the air. 

“You want it back, you’re gonna have to try harder than that!” Stan challenged. 

The portal sprang to life in the other room. The main counsel was heating up. Hell was being raised, but the two brothers didn’t even notice, the only thing on their mind was their own anger. 

“You left me behind, you jerk!” Stan cried. He felt hot water trail down his cheeks, all the raw emotions spilling out, leaving nothing but memories of closed curtains. “It was supposed to be us forever!” What had happened? Why did one little accident have to ruin everything? A stupid little accident, by a stupid little boy. And he was thrown out like garbage, because why would a genius like Stanford want to be friends with a stupid little boy. 

Why did he _always_ have to be the parasitic twin? Why did _he_ always have to be the one that nobody wanted. Why couldn’t Ford take the blame for a change?

“You ruined my life!” 

“You ruined your own life!” 

Ford kicked him in the chest, and his back pressed against the control panel. There was something hot on there. Something that burned like hellfire. 

Someone was screaming. No, he was screaming. He was screaming because whatever symbol was on that panel was being branded into his back, and it was Ford who’d done it. 

The foot was finally released after a few agonizing moments, and Stan crumbled to the ground, feeling drained. The pain was fresh and hot, and he couldn’t think about anything else for a second. He’d been burned. Ford had kicked him into hot metal and it _burned_ . Ford had _burned_ him. 

He can faintly hear Ford ask if he’s ok, behind the ringing in his ears. He looked up at his brother through blurry vision. _Tell me that didn’t just happen! Tell me that wasn’t real_. 

Ford was standing a few inches away from him, clutching the damned leather book to his chest, as if _it_ mattered more to him than his brother, who was withering in pain on the ground. 

Nobody ever cared when he’d been in pain. He’d be reaching out for the help of people he thought were friends, only for them to leave him to wither and die where he laid. But Ford was supposed to be different. _He was supposed to be different_. The devastation was gone, replaced by something cold and numb. Dry anger. 

Wet anger was passionate, with screaming and tears, the sign of a heart that had been broken. Dry anger was numb, with little emotion left, because there wasn’t much of a heart left to break anymore. 

Stan was up in seconds, an angry adrenaline masking turning the burning pain in his shoulder into a dull throb. He felt empty. Empty as he punches Ford in the face one last time, empty as he grabbed the journey from him, and empty as he marched forwards, forcing his brother to back away, as if Ford could sense the dangerous energy coming from his brother. That was it. Stanley was done. He’d never give a damn about his brother again. 

For so long he’d held onto the hope that maybe his family would take him back. Maybe his family would forgive him. 

How stupid had he been. 

“Some brother you turned out to be,” He laughed, the sound hollow and bitter. And it was funny, because it turned out that Stan Pines was the biggest _fucking_ _joke_ in the world. “You care more about your dumb mysteries than you’re own family? Well, then you can _have_ them!” 

And with that final sentiment, he shoved the journal into Ford’s arms with enough force to knock his brother over. With that final statement, he would leave Ford here in the basement, get into his car, and leave this damned town. Maybe he’d drive his way off a cliff if he was lucky. 

That would be easy and painless, now, wouldn’t it? 

But Ford didn’t fall down. He was falling up. Up into a swirling vortex that they hadn’t even realized had been turned on during their fight. 

“Whoa, whoa, hey!” Stan panicked, watching his brother float away up out of his reach, fear making his muscles grow stiff. “What’s going on? Hey, hey, Stanford!” 

“Stanley!” Ford shouted out desperately. “Stanley, help me!” He begged. 

“Wha-what do I do!” He shouted back. 

“Stanley do something!!” Ford cried out, panicking, as blue light began to absorb his body. 

He threw his book to Stan, who caught it. Stan looked at the journal, and then looked at Ford. 

An idea formed in his mind. A brilliant and stupid idea. Something so utterly impulsive that he was sure to get an earful from his brother if they’d managed to survive. 

He made his decision. Stan chucked the book aside, and took a run, and jumped into the vacuuming gravity, touching his brother's hand, as the two of them were pulled through the portal. 

_“Don’t worry bro, Wherever we go, we go together!”_

* * *

Dipper and Mabel ran through the forest, nearing the old cabin that had become their living quarters. They had managed to steal the toxic waste, though they had to abandon Thompson. Wendy and the gang helped them get the waste back to their museum, which they used to fuel up the portal. 

Honestly, Thompson held out longer than they thought. The dude had gone through who knew what kind of interrogation, but still held the fort for six hours before selling out their location. They expected him to wimp out within seconds. 

After fueling their contraption with waste and triggering the proper sequence to get it going, they just had to wait eleven hours before the portal would open for real, and hopefully, their great uncle’s would step through. It’d been a long journey, but it was finally going to pay off. 

There were six hours left until the portal opened when the government had driven up to the house and tried to arrest all the residents within. Mabel, Dipper, and Wendy had been the main focus, but Wendy had managed to fight them off, running into the woods, screaming that “You’ll never catch me!!” Dipper and Mabel had been caught, as well as Nate and Robbie, but Lee and Tambry used the chaos to hide. Which was good; they’d need all the help they could get. 

Mabel used her one phone call to contact Candy, while Dipper had called up Pacifica. They had a _Code Black and White_ , and it was time to cash in every favor they were ever owed, and gather every ally they ever made. 

The twin’s ran to the shack, ten minutes to spare before the portal would open within the basement. They took a good look at the museum that was their home, and it seemed as if everything had paid off. 

Buff, eight-foot-tall men with bull horns and legs patrolled the cabin, aided by plump women wielding spears and seal-skin capes. The manator's and the silkies. There were gnomes, scamp-fires, geodites, and eye-bats guarding the doors. Hawktopi flew around, terrorizing the government agents who still dared to linger, and the Multi-bear stood proudly at the top of his roof, growling ferociously, warning trespassers that they would be damned if they crossed him. 

“Alright! The gang’s all here!” Mabel cheered, running up to the front door, Dipper by her side. 

“Thank you for your help, guys!” Dipper said. “We really appreciate it!” 

“Anything for the fearsome heroes who vanquished the killbillies!” A manator proclaimed. 

“Any friend of Mermando’s is a friend of mine,” A silky mentioned. 

“I would do anything for the two of you,” The multi-bear shouted to them from the top of the roof. 

“Speak for yourselves!” One of the gnomes snapped. “We’re only here ‘cause Pacifica told us that two hot ladies are coming out of that portal you opened to be our queens!” 

Dipper and Mabel shared a knowing look. Those gnomes were _sure_ going to be disappointed. 

The inside of the house is a bit of a mess. Most of the artifacts they displayed in their museum were in some sort of broken state, and the plaidipi were escaping their exhibit. That didn’t matter.

Guarding the door to the basement was Grenda, one of Mabel’s closest friends. “Some of the police guys got inside!” She told them. “Wendy and our girls are fighting them off!” 

Dipper and Mabel hurried down the stairs. Five minutes until the portal went off. 

True to Grenda’s word, there were policemen down in the portal room, attempting to turn off the machine, while Wendy, Pacifica, and Candy wrestled with them. The men had triggered the failsafe, opening up the button that could shut their project down with one press in the middle of the room. 

Wendy ran towards them. “Dudes! You're here!” She shouted, leaning on her knees to catch her breath. “How long have we got?” 

“Three minutes,” Dipper declared, sliding into the rolling chair that sat in front of the main counter, which held all the buttons that operated the portal. He checked it over, making sure that nothing was out of place. “All we’ve got left to do is wait for our moment of glory,” 

“Yeah!” Mabel cheered. “Just three minutes, and then—” She suddenly let out a scream, pointing. 

Dipper looked over and saw one of the government agents reaching for the button. 

Mabel was on it in seconds. She tackled the man, the two of them rolling until they hit the foot of the portal. 

Everything started to fly up, as gravity fell. Mabel tossed the man as far away from the portal as she could, the lack of gravity making it easy. Unfortunately, she was right in the portal’s danger zone, the energy whipping her around like a rag doll. 

“Mabel!” Dipper shouted out in panic, launching himself into the room and towards the button. He had to shut it down. That portal wasn’t worth his sister. 

His hand was on it. 

“Dipper wait!” Mabel screamed. She was holding onto the top of the structure, clinging for dear life, while her legs were sucked into the swirling vortex. She pulled on herself, yanking her legs out. There were burns on them, but she didn’t seem to notice. She looked over to Dipper, her eyes full of confidence. Her face was covered in bruises and her nose was bleeding. Even still, she smiled wickedly, her faith that everything would go right strong as ever. “I’ll be fine!” She told him. 

“How do you know?!” He shouted, ready to slam the button, looking at the burns on his sister's legs, and the blood on her face. She clinged on the portal's helm, the only thing keeping her from getting sucked in was her own determined strength. “How do you know you’ll be ok?!” 

The portal reached its final countdown. 

10…

9…

8… “Trust me!” She told him. 

7…

6… Dipper drew his hands away from the button. 

5… Mabel gives him a confident smile. 

4… Candy and Pacifica scream as gravity shoves them against the wall. 

3… Wendy watches them from the doorway, looking scared

2… Mabel digs her nails into the metal, the rust collecting in them. 

1…

And for an awful moment, everything is still. 

There’s blast, and a blinding white light. Dipper is thrown backwards, away from his sister, and into the control room, landing roughly on Wendy. 

Outside, they’re museum floats off its foundation. Everything outside is going up, up, up…

Mabel can feel herself floating in a white void. She sees nothing. 

Then all at once, it all comes crashing down. 

* * *

The portal flickers with a leftover glow, as a figure walks through it. He’s dressed in a long, tattered coat, a scarf and goggles masking his face, and a large weapon of sorts strung across his back. In his arms is the limp unconscious body of an old man, who’s covered in bruises and blood. The figure himself is limping. There’s something tired in his step. The old man in his arms is barely breathing. The figure holds him close, like one would something precious. 

Dipper approaches the doorway, where he can see his sister, who’s standing up despite her injuries. He approaches her slowly, as the men who came out of the portal walked over all the debris that had fallen around the triangular structure. 

Mabel’s eyes are wide, her expression one of shock and awe. 

“Holy shit, Dipper,” She whispered to her brother in disbelief. “We— We did it,” 

It’s all she can do to even talk. Dipper can’t even respond to her. He's at a loss for words. 

“It worked. We finally found Grandpa Shermie’s brothers,” 


	2. Nightmare Realm / Dipper and Mabel's Guide to Getting the Government off Your Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the past, Ford and Stan arrive in the Nightmare Realm, and try to escape from Bill, and try to solve their own issues on the way. 
> 
> In the present, Mabel and Dipper have just rescued their great uncles from another dimension, but the consequences of their actions are ever looming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, for starters, Stan and Ford have a fight. Not exactly anything new, but just throwing that out there. Ford is a bit of an ass in the flashback portion of this chapter, but in his defense, Nightmare Realm. Either way, I hope you enjoy.

Dipper and Mabel stare in awe as two men emerge from the portal; one wearing a tattered coat, limping slightly, carrying the other in his arms. The other one is unconscious, and covered in copious amounts of wounds, most of which are bleeding. His clothes are torn, barely covering his body. The only item that appears to be in one piece is a knit hat, with the pattern of a gold little fish. Both of the men looked like they had been to hell and back. Dipper and Mabel can only stare as the man that  _ had  _ to be their great uncle approaches them, clutching his brother close to him. 

“You two!” He snaps suddenly, in a tone that makes both the twins straighten their backs on instinct. “Are you the ones who opened the portal?” 

The kids hesitate, taken aback, before Dipper finally replies; “Are you two Stanley and Stanford Pines?” 

The man’s eyebrows raise. Dipper can imagine that, underneath his dark tinted goggles and the scarf covering his mouth and nose, the man might look shocked. “Who are you two?” He snaps at them, paranoia in his voice. 

“We’re Mabel and Dipper,” Mabel answers quickly, surprisingly energetic. She seemed to be ignoring the burns on her legs, and the copious amounts of blood that is drooling down her nose. “We’re actually the grandkids of your brother, Shermie,” 

The man took a few steps back, his legs wobbling slightly. He turned a shoulder to them, protectively holding his brother, so he’d be shielded if they tried to attack them. “Who are you!?” He barked. “How did you know our names?!” 

Mabel raises an eyebrow. “We just told you, we’re your brother’s grandkids,” 

“Maybe you should’ve found a better way to tell them,” Dipper whispers to his sister, watching the man as he starts to dive into paranoid-sounding mutterings. Dipper can't catch most of it, but he does pick up on  _ “How did children manage to operate my portal?”  _

Mild irritation floods into Dipper’s veins. First of all, never underestimate a child. Secondly, “We’re nineteen, actually. Which means we’re technically adults,” 

“I said that out loud?” The man replies, surprised. 

Their great uncle stiffens, staring at the twins with an unknown intensity. His grip on his brother seems to tighten. It's obvious that this man ins't trusting the situation at all. 

“Guys we got a problem!” Wendy suddenly shouts from the control room. She runs out of them, quickly going over to Candy, who’s mumbling something about a headache, and pulling the girl into a standing position, despite protest. 

“It’s Agent Powers,” Wendy informs them. “I saw him on the camera’s. He’s coming down here in the elevator right now!” 

“Shit!” Dipper curses, before laughing “At least we managed to complete our goal?” He hopes that would make them all feel better. 

“You think they’ll let us all stay in the same cell?” Mabel jokes, though it does little to lighten the mood. 

“Who is Agent Powers?” The man from the portal suddenly spits out. “We don’t have time to delay, we have to get my brother—” 

He’s cut off as a burly man with a black mustache and a severe hair loss problem steps into the room. 

“Mason and Mabel Pines,” He said in a low, stern voice, devoid of any emotion. “You two have got a  _ lot _ of explaining to do,”

* * *

It didn’t matter what had happened between them. It didn’t matter how much he’d been hurt. Stan didn’t even hesitate, leaping through the portal with his brother, hoping that at least, whatever Ford would have to face on the other side, he wouldn’t have to face it alone. 

He griped onto Ford as tight as possible as they tumbled into the light. He can feel Ford’s fingers squeezing his arms as he grips tightly onto Stan's jacket. 

There’s nothing but white for a few seconds, before images all fade in at once, and they find themselves in what appears to be a realm of pure chaos. 

There was no gravity. The sky's a combination of purple, pink and red, and creatures of all shapes and sizes floated around, laughing, crying, and screaming. A giant creature made of teeth floated by with an alien-like being sitting dead in its mouth, green blood flowing from its body. What looked like a giant loaf of purple bread wearing a party hat laughs at two humanoid creatures that are dangling in the air, suffering several kinds of torture that Stan didn’t even know was possible. A woman made from pink flames and a devil with a pacifier in its stomach seem to be making a snack out of the burnt carcass of, well, something. Any monster that had ever shown up in Stan's nightmares (aside from the human ones, of course), seemed to reside in this…  _ place. _ A perfectly constructed hell on earth. 

But they were no longer  _ on  _ earth, were they? 

And sitting in the middle of it all, sitting on a throne in what appeared to be the center of this universe, was a yellow, one-eyed triangle, dressed in a top hat and bow tie. 

Stan could instantly tell that whatever that thing was, it was bad news. 

“Ford, what’s going on?!” Stan shouted to his brother, hoping his voice could actually be heard over the incessant screaming. “Where are we!?” 

His brother said nothing, looking over at the triangle with fear and pain in his eyes. When Ford finally managed to croak a word out, all he said was “Bill,” 

The triangular being spotted them. He didn’t have a face, but Stan got the feeling he was smiling, like a child who just found two new dolls to pop the heads off of. 

“LOOK WHO DECIDED TO PAY ME A VISIT!” He jeered. “AND LOOK, HE EVEN BROUGHT HIS BROTHER WITH HIM!” 

“You know this guy?” Stan asked, hoping that his brother could at least provide some context for what was going on. His brother built a portal. That portal lead to this place. A place full of demons, where their leader apparently seemed to  _ know _ Ford. And Ford knew him. “What’s going on here!?” 

“It’s Bill! We landed right in his domain!” Ford panicked. 

“Who in the hell is Bill?” 

The figure loomed closer to them. “I’M BILL, STUPID,” It mocked. “YOUR BROTHER’S LOYAL AND HELPFUL  _ MUSE _ ,” The triangle– Bill– suddenly broke into a manic laughter. “IT’S FUNNY HOW  _ GULLIBLE _ GOOD OL’ SIXER WAS,”

“Hey!” Stan barked, clutching onto his brother. This wasn’t good, but if he learned one thing on the streets, it’s that you should never show fear to the enemy. Even if they manage to beat you down (which they usually do), you can at least take pride in fighting them tooth and nail all the way down. “Don’t call him that! Only  _ I  _ can call him that!” 

“WOW, SPOKEN LIKE SOMEONE WHO THINKS THEY’RE STILL FRIENDS WITH ‘IM,” Bill taunted. “I’D FIND IT FUNNY IF IT WASN’T SO PATHETIC,” 

Stan grimaced. So Bill was one of  _ those _ people. He’d come across them before; at least the human ones. You got used to them after a while. Learned to tune them out. The words would still hurt; triggering all of the bad memories associated with them, but it was easier to fight through them. 

“ANYWAYS,” Bill continued, circling around to face Ford. “IT’S BEEN A WHILE. 12 DAYS EXACTLY SINCE YOU LAST LET ME FIND YOU. HOW ‘BOUT A GAME OF INTERDIMENSIONAL CHESS. THIS TIME,  **YOU’LL BE THE PAWN** ,” 

The giant freak of nature snapped his fingers, and one of his cronies; a freaky monster made of teeth and fingers, took a dive right towards them, howling anomalistically. 

Ford gripped Stan's wrist with a frightening strength, and kicked off a nearby surface, launching the two of them away from the beast. They pushed their way through debris and rocks, trying their best to find a decent hiding spot. 

Ford navigated the place like a pro, practically dragging Stan along for the ride. Which was strange considering  _ one _ of them failed PE and the other didn’t. 

They settled behind an asteroid, keeping themselves hidden from sight. 

“SIXER AND FISH STICKS WANTS TO PLAY HIDE-AND-SEEK! FIRST ONE TO FIND THEM AND BRING ‘EM TO ME GETS THEIR OWN GALAXY” Bill laughed, his voice condescending and mocking. Stan had to admit he was terrified. 

But he was so glad he jumped through the portal with his brother. He wouldn’t want Stanford to face this hellscape on his own. 

“That was crazy!” Stan laughed humorously with wide eyes. “How’d you think we’re gonna get out of this one?” 

He turned to his brother. Ford took a second to catch his breath, and put a spare pair of glasses on. When he finally turned to face Stan, he appeared  _ livid _ . Stan wasn’t surprised to see his brother’s face had gone red with anger, but a small part of him had been hoping he wouldn’t have been.  _ How stupid _ . 

“Stanley, what the hell were you thinking!?” Ford snapped, keeping his voice low, but it didn’t do much to disguise the sharp tone in his voice.

“I was thinking that whatever was on the other side of that portal you shouldn’t have to face alone!” Stan snapped back, keeping his voice as equally low. “I mean, look at this place!”

“I would’ve been fine on my own!” Ford snapped. “You should’ve stayed behind and disabled the portal! Now it’s lying around in the basement where _anyone_ can reopen it, and it’s _all_. _Your._ _Fault,”_

“Oh yes, someone is  _ totally _ gonna go to your cabin in the middle of nowhere, and operate the hulking piece of science fiction in the basement,” Stan mocked. “And I don’t care whether or not you’d be fine on your own! I wasn’t gonna abandon you!” 

“I’d be better off by myself!” Ford griped, and it felt like he had stabbed a knife in Stan’s chest. “Now that I have to drag  _ you _ around, it’s gonna get us both killed,” 

“Now you're just being mean!” Stan accused. “And I can take care of myself,” 

“Oh yes, that’s  _ quite obvious _ ,” Ford eyed Stan up and down, sarcasm dripping from his voice. The mullet, the ripped coat, the dirty shirt; Stan was obviously not doing so well. Ford was using that as a point against him. 

Ford could be mean. Stan knew this. As a child, Stan found that his twin never quite understood how hurtful words could be. Ford would say things without quite understanding the knife he drove. It was always an accident. 

Stan looked into his brother’s eyes. They were cold and full of fury. Ford wasn’t just saying these things and not understanding the consequences. 

He had  _ wanted _ it to hurt, hadn’t he? 

“I can’t believe you!” Ford continued. “I gave you _one job_ , Stanley. _One job!_ Something that _even_ _you_ couldn’t possibly fail at!” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” Stan snapped, forgetting to whisper. 

“ _ Shut up!”  _ Ford demanded, placing a harsh hand over his brother’s mouth. “Do you want us to get  _ caught!? _ ” 

Stan pushed him off. “What was I supposed to do; just let you fall through the portal?” He asked, keeping quiet this time. Ford’s aggressive movements were reminding him a bit too much of other people he knew. He didn’t want to be touched right now. 

“You were  _ supposed  _ to take my journal and  _ leave _ ,” Ford berated. “It would’ve been quick. In and out, as if you weren’t even there, then—” 

“As if I wasn’t—?” Stan sputtered. “Damn it Ford, what am I to you? A tool for some fetch-quest?” He tried to keep his voice down; he didn’t want his brother grabbing at him again. But the pain was digging at him again. The burn on his back stung like hell, causing tears to gather in the corner of his eyes. That was the reason he was about to cry; the injury. Not anything else. Definitely not anything else. Men didn’t cry; they didn’t let words hurt them. That was a sissy thing; a sign of weakness. Only  _ weak _ men cried over words. “You ignored me for ten years, and only acknowledged my existence when you needed something. What, did you want me to just disappear again?!”

“I  _ wanted  _ you to hide my journal!” Ford responded. “I  _ wanted  _ you to actually do something  _ useful _ for once in your life!” 

“You don’t know what my life is like!” 

“Stanley, you  _ smell _ like a whore-house and  _ look _ like you’ve been surviving off cheap fast-food,” Ford spat. “It’s obvious you’ve never done a good thing! You’ve been selfish as long as I’ve known you, and you're blaming  _ me _ for it  _ biting you in the ass!!”  _

Stan took those words like a punch in the face. Was it selfish to wish for your family to care for you? Was it selfish to want to live another day? Was it selfish to want someone to care about you? Ford had no right to judge his life. Sure, he's done things he wasn't proud of; it wasn't a coincidence that Ford had noticed such a specific smell on his brother. But Ford had no right to judge. He hadn't been there! “Fuck you!” Stan shouted, wanting nothing more than to break down crying. Ford suddenly grabbed his mouth again, this time shoving him into a headlock. 

“Shut up! Will you just shut up!” Ford growled, shaking his brother. The veins in his forehead were bulging, and his face was so red it looked like his head would explode any minute. Ford was  _ angry _ . So what? Stan was angry too. “We are in the middle of the nightmare realm. You’re shouting will give away our position! Do you  _ want  _ us to die, Stanley!” 

_ Maybe I do! _ Stan thinks, bitterly, elbowing his brother in the stomach as hard as he could. Ford started coughing, but at least he let go. 

Stan stood up again, holding onto his shoulder. The rough handling had torn at the third-degree burn. It was probably bleeding. God, it hurt so bad. There was also fresh blood on the stomach of his shirt. The stitches must have ripped. Ford didn’t even seem to notice. 

“So you know  _ everything _ about my life; that’s  _ great _ !” Stan pushed through gritted teeth. “And like  _ you’re _ one to talk anyways! Apparently some intergalactic  _ demon _ tricked you into nearly ending the world! And you think  _ I’m _ the one who’s never done a good thing?” 

Ford quickly recovered from the elbow. “That’s why I wanted you to take my book and run! I could’ve shut down the portal and been done with all of this, but  _ you _ pushed me into it!” 

“ _ You _ burned my back!” Stan retorted. 

Ford looked guilty for a second. Maybe he’d finally gotten through—

“And then you had the bright idea of jumping in after me! How _stupid_ are you!?” Ford continued as if Stan hadn’t said anything at all. 

Well, never mind then. 

“You _could’ve_ shut the portal down. You _could’ve_ hidden the journal. You _would have_ ensured the world's safety! But no, because apparently you are _utterly incapable_ of making _any_ _kind_ _of decision_ that relies on brain cells!” 

“Oh, so now your saying I’m stupid?” Stan tried to hide how much it hurt.  _ So many people _ had called him stupid over the years. He was so damned tired of it. He  _ just _ wanted it to end. Ford was his brother. He  _ knew _ Stan hated being called that. Did his brother forget? Or was he simply trying to make him feel like shit? 

“I’m  _ saying  _ that you  _ were  _ stupid !” Ford replied. Those words failed to make Stan feel any better. If anything, it just made things worse. “You were  _ very _ stupid to have followed me, when you  _ could’ve  _ shut the portal down!” 

“And leave you to die in this place?” 

“Yes!” 

“And why the hell would I do that?” 

“BECAUSE THAT’S WHAT I WOULD’VE DONE IF ROLES WERE REVERSED!!” Ford finally shouted. 

The dry anger returned, but the wet anger didn’t go away. Stan was feeling both numb and burning with every horrible emotion in the world at once, and he hated it. He absolutely hated it. 

He wouldn’t cry. He wouldn’t give Ford the satisfaction. 

He turned around, and walked away. 

“Stanley, where are you going?!” Ford shouted the moment Stan left their hiding place, and started to wander away. 

“AWAY FROM YOU!!” He cried, jumping off the asteroid they were hidden in, and running away.

* * *

Mabel sits next to a window as a nurse cleans her wounds. The part of her legs that had been sucked through the portal, a little bit over her knees and down, are covered in second degree wounds. Getting her boots and socks off had been a son of a bitch, since the fabric had stuck to the raw flesh. Many of the burns had turned into puss-filled welts, and raw red skin. 

In addition to the burns on her legs, she’d also gotten pretty cut up from being in the danger zone of the portal blast. Most of the cuts had scabbed pretty quickly, though there was a decent amount of blood that poured through them, at least before they’d been bandaged. Her body was bruised, but the worst injury, besides her burnt legs, of course, had been her nose, which had been busted in several directions after her face had smashed into the portal. 

Several tissues had been shoved into her nose to stop the bleeding, most of them turning red within seconds. Now that it's been a little while, the blood had faded to a light trickle. The bloody nose had been irritating more than anything. 

She had nearly been sucked through the portal. She would’ve been lost to another dimension. What would’ve happened to her then? 

Dipper had wanted to shut the portal down. He would’ve thrown away years of hard work in a second just to make sure she was safe. He really is the best brother she could ask for. 

But something told her she’d be ok. She just needed to hang on to the portal, and she wouldn’t get sucked in. It was just a feeling. So she begged Dipper to trust her, and he did. 

Everything they’d ever done for eight years had all been leading to that moment. And watching as two men stepped through their interdimensional portal had been  _ absolutely _ worth every inch of the work. 

Now all that's left is the consequences. 

Dipper is good at explaining things, and they have their great uncles as proof. Plus, Pacifica could contact her layers, and they have the whole town,  _ and _ a butt-load of supernatural creatures to speak for them should the need arise. 

And if all else fails, at least they managed to complete their goal before getting arrested. 

Mabel hisses in pain as more burn cream is applied to her legs. The burns hadn’t really started hurting until people had drawn attention to it. That, and she had completely lost all feeling in her legs the moment she pulled them out of the portal, and said feelings have only managing to creep back now. 

She hasn't seen any of her friends in a while. She's starting to get worried. 

“You have  _ got _ to be the one of the most resilient people I’ve ever seen,” The nurse laughs. “Normally, anyone with these kinds of burns would be shouting and swearing anytime I touch them, but your taking it like a champ,” 

Mabel eyes the nurse. She's cute, but Mable doesn't exactly feel like flirting at the moment. It’d been a long day, and she's feeling pretty drained. 

“I just wanna go home,” She grumbles. “When can I see my brother?” 

The nurse only shrugs in response. 

Agent Powers had been in and out of the room, asking her questions, making sure her story and Dipper’s lined up. Mabel didn’t even embellish this time; wasn’t like she  _ had _ to, the cryptids of Gravity Falls where a grandiose detail of their own, but she was tired anyways, so she settled for telling the story as it was; two little kids decided to do something phenomenal, and it lead them to this point in time. 

She wishes she had gotten more time to talk to her Great Uncles. At least she knew which one was which, having finally been able to get a proper glance at the conscious man’s six fingers. She also knew that Stanford was paranoid, both were traumatized, and one had spent quite some time as an interdimensional abomination's hostage, or at least that’s what could be gathered from Ford’s mad ramblings. 

Ford had panicked when the MD’s had tried to take his brother off his hands, screaming that they weren’t to touch him, nor to take his brother away from him again. It’d been a struggle getting the man to calm down. Eventually, they simply choose to sedate him. She would hear occasional updates as to the status of her friends, but they were all vague and didn’t tell her much. 

Finally, Agent Trigger enters the room, with Dipper alongside him. 

“Mabel!” The boy shouts, running up to his sister and hugging her. 

“Good to see you, Dip-Dop,” Mabel hugs him back. “Do you know how our Great Uncle’s are doing?” 

“I haven’t gotten to see them yet. These guys have just been pestering me with question after question!” Dipper laments. “I think they’re alright, but nobody’s telling me anything!” 

“Don’t worry yourselves, they’re in a stable condition,” Agent Powers informs them, using the same vague words as usual. “We will eventually be questioning them, but aside from that, you and your friends are free to go,” 

“Really!?” Mabel asks, in shock. Their interrogation had only lasted around three hours, with a decent portion of it being taken up by transportation and dragging an unwilling old man to the hospital. 

“Turns out, according to the  _ Never Mind All That Act of 2015 _ , the United States government has no jurisdiction in Supernatural Affair,” Dipper explains with a smug smile. “And here I just thought the law was an unsuccessful attempt at covering up what happened with the Shape-shifter,” 

The nurse looks from Agent Powers to Dipper and Mabel, before shaking her head. “I’m not even gonna ask,” she says. 

“The only trouble we’d get in is if the townspeople tried to press charges, but nobody did," Dipper continues. "The only reason it took so long is cause we were under grounds for resisting arrest, but Pacifica was able to take care of that one,” 

Mabel smiles wickedly. “Bribery or blackmail?” 

Dipper shrugs. “Probably a little bit of both? Plus a really good layer” 

“If you two are quite done,” Powers grumbles, “I’d like for everyone to sign their papers, and then leave. I swear, you two, and this entire god forsaken town, have been a pain in my ass for years. It may please you to know that I do not intend on seeing any of you, or this damn place, ever again,” 

“Awe, come one, Powers,” Mabel drawled. “I know you love us deep down somewhere in that black heart of yours,” 

Powers decides not to satisfy Mabel's taunt with a response. “I’ll be referring you to my assistant,” he said, and then left. 

Dipper lets out a laugh, falling down to the floor, and landing on his butt. “It’s over! It’s finally over!” He exclaimed. “We did everything! We got our Great Uncle’s back, we opened a goddamn interdimensional portal, and we even got the government off our backs! This is amazing,” 

“We can finally meet them!” Cheers Mabel. “Do you think they’ll like us? Oh who am I kidding, they’re going to  _ love me _ , at least,” 

Dipper just laughs, getting up to rub a hand in his sister's hair. “Yeah, yeah,” He turns to the nurse. “Is she ok?” 

“She’ll probably need to go in for check-ups,” The nurse told him. “The burns are bad, but they’re not deep enough to affect any major nerve endings or arteries. She’ll have scars, but they’ll be superficial. Just make sure to change bandages and clean the wounds regularly so that they don’t get infected. We’ll be giving her a pair of crutches so she can walk properly until they heal,” 

“Thank you,” Dipper tells her, as Mabel starts to rant about battle scars while wearing a large smile on her face. “We really appreciate this,” 

The nurse shrugs. “Just doing my job,” 

Mabel is supplied with crutches, and the two leave the room and wander into the lobby of the police station. They sign the papers, and then meet up with their friends. 

“Dudes! We did it!” Wendy cheered the moment she saw them, running up to Dipper and trapping him in a bear hug, ruffling his hair. She tosses him over her shoulder and spins around. “We fucking rescued two old guys from another dimension, we’re amazing!” 

She gave Mabel a head pat and a hug as well, though she was more cautious with her due to the injuries. 

“Hey Lee! Catch!” Wendy shouts, tossing Dipper over to her friend. Dipper landed on him harshly, knocking him over

“Wendy, he’s not a little kid anymore, you can’t just toss him around and expect us to catch him!” Lee complained. Dipper got off of the older boy with a small apology, and an annoyed glare in Wendy’s direction. 

“Guys, we  _ gotta _ throw a party or something!” Wendy continues, as if she had not just thrown a teen at one of her friends. “We’ve been working towards this for eight years! We gotta celebrate!” 

“As long as Dipper doesn’t raise the dead again,” Robbie quips. 

“You’ll never let me live that down, will you?” Dipper complains. 

“We should have it at my house. It’s the biggest,” Pacifica suggests. “And before you start with me Mabel, your house is pretty much destroyed because gravity. Not happening,” 

Mabel hadn’t even had a chance to open her mouth, but Pacifica knew all too well how much Mabel loves to host all their parties at her cabin. The two would often compete with eachother for hosting privileges. 

“Guys, as much as I love the idea of a party,” Dipper brought up, rolling his eyes. “Aren’t we forgetting about the two guys we worked so hard to bring back?” 

“But a party is the perfect place for them to go meet new people!” Mabel insists. “I mean, wouldn’t Great Uncle Stanford  _ at least _ wanna see Old Man McGucket again? They were, like, best BFF"s or something! ” 

“He had been pretty excited about our project once he’d gotten over his fear,” Candy mentions. 

“Yeah,” Grenda chimes in. “We can’t let the old man down!” 

Dipper rolled his eyes. It had been eight years, and Mabel and her girls were still the hyperactive party people they had been when they where twelve and had met eachother for the first time. “Let’s at least  _ ask  _ them if they’re ok with all this,” Dipper tries. “We don’t know what they’ve been through. They might not be _ready_ to go to a party,” 

“Right…” Mabel mumbled, more solemnly. “What  _ do  _ you think happened to them?” 

“They looked pretty beat up,” Wendy contemplated. “And didn’t Stanford say something about a demon?” 

“Guys, you don’t think it was—” Dipper whispers, refusing to finish the sentence. The dream demon was a secret Mabel and Dipper had only shared with their innermost circle. They didn’t know much about him, besides that he’d caused their great uncles a lot of trouble in the past; Stanford especially, and that he was dangerous. Mabel may have tricked it into helping them with barely a consequence once, but they didn’t make the assumption that they had any sort of upper hand on the demon, or that they could pull that kind of trick again. If anything, managing to trick him would only make them a target in his eye. But it wasn’t even  _ that  _ that terrified them. What terrified them was what he’d possibly had done to their Great Uncles. 

“We can’t dismiss the possibility,” Wendy says. “After all, didn’t that creep  _ want _ us to open the portal? There’s gotta be something he wanted from that. Something in it for him,” 

Mabel looks at her right hand. It's a different size and skin color from it’s pair. It’s palm sweats frequently, while her left hand didn’t, and there is a sixth finger on her right hand. The two hands didn’t match at all. One hand was the one she’d been born with, and the other was a replacement given to her by a friend, after sacrificing her original right hand to further their project. 

She had chosen that specific replacement, thinking that the six fingers were symbolic or something. Honestly, she just wanted to feel like her sacrifice made her a bit more special. 

She told a dream demon that she’d give him her hand for anything he needed, as long as _he_ gave _them_ the missing gaps in their instructions for fixing the portal. She fulfilled her end of the bargain right away; literally giving him her severed right hand, for him to use as he pleased. 

_ “I’ll give you my hand, for whatever you need,”  _

She did lament the loss of her original hand, and making that deal had been terrifying, but if Mabel was honest with herself, that had to have been the most badass moment of her life. 

“If that freak of nature hurt our Grunkles, we’ll just have to hurt him back,” Mabel vows. 

“Grunkles?” Dipper asks incredulously. “That sounds like a disease,” 

“It’s the words Great and Uncle smushed together!” Mabel explains. “Easier than saying  _ Great Uncle _ all the time,” 

“Yeah, well, what if our  _ Grunkles _ don’t like that word,” He teases with a smirk. 

“They will,” Mabel says confidently. “You’ll see,” 

Dipper just rolls his eyes, smiling nonetheless. “Well, how about we make a visit to our  _ Grunkles  _ at the hospital, and find out,”

* * *

You wouldn’t guess with how much he’d done it, but Stan hated crying alone. It felt like bleeding out; nobody was there to help you. You’d never feel so utterly alone as you did when you cried by yourself. 

Stan sat at the edge of some of the debris, wondering how long it’d be before some creature came and ate him. He’d held it together with expertise, but now that he was away from his brother, he finally let it out. 

Stan wrapped his arms around himself, and let out a pained wail. It was a raw cry that sounded like a wounded animal. The noise was pathetic, and Stan felt humiliated for making it, but it  _ hurt. So. Goddamn. Much _ . Why did it have to hurt? Why did  _ everything  _ have to hurt!? 

The worst part was that Ford had a point. If he hadn’t lost his temper in the basement none of this would’ve happened. But he’d done it to himself again; he’d gotten his hopes up. He thought that things may go well; that Ford had actually wanted to see him. 

“How could I have been so  _ stupid, _ ” He sobbed bitterly. 

Now he was trapped in another dimension with someone who hated him. And the worst part was that if he had the chance to go back and redo it, he’d just do it all again. Because he loved Ford. His brother and best friend. And nothing could change that. 

Ford just didn’t love him back. 

It was pathetic. 

“Stanley, are you crying?”  Speak of the devil. 

“W-What do you care?” He asked gruffly, stuttering over his words, and wiping his eyes with his hands. It was a futile effort; the tears just kept coming. 

“Stan, we need to find cover, we’ll die out here,” Ford insisted. 

_ So what if I died? No skin off  _ your _ back _ . 

“Then go hide, and let me die in peace, would ya?” He demanded. 

“Stanley…” Ford said his name gently. For the first time, Ford wasn’t yelling at him. 

Ford sat down next to him. 

“It’s jus’ not fair, you know!?” Stan cried. “All I ever wanted was to make things up to ya, ok? I know I broke your project. It was an accident, but I don’t really care if ya believe me at this point, I just wanted ya to forgive me!” Stan isn’t sure why he’s saying this. It’s not like his brother was listening. “I  _ honestly _ thought you wanted me back in your life. I thought that  _ finally _ someone wanted me, for more than just a favor. Jimmy just wanted to get busy, Maryland just wanted my car, Beatrice wanted a servant, Jorge wanted money, and Rico wanted a human pet. And  _ you _ jus’ wanted me to grab something then leave. Was I just s’posed to never see you again? Is that what you wanted?” 

Ford let out a long sigh. Stan didn’t dare look at him. The damn tears wouldn’t stop. Why had he even said anything in the first place? Those where _his_ secretes. Was he expecting sympathy? _What a sick and twisted way to get it,_ Stan thinks, feeling ashamed. 

“Your shirt has blood on it,” Ford finally replied. 

Stan rolled his eyes. Of all the things to focus on, though a part of him was glad that's what had gotten Ford's attention, rather than the things he said. Maybe what happened between him and Maryland wasn't so bad comparatively, but god forbid Ford ask him about Rico. “Glad you noticed,” 

“Let me look at it,” Ford demanded. 

“Wha-”

“Just let me look at it please!” Ford begged. “I can’t do much for your burnt shoulder with the supplies I have on hand, but I can at  _ least  _ take a look at your stomach,” 

Stan blinked. Ford looked… concerned. Stan obeyed, lifting up his shirt enough for Ford to see the fresh stitch job trailing over his stomach, which had been torn at in their scuffle. 

“Jeez, the hell kind of doctor did this stitching?” Ford exclaimed, grabbing a clean-ish cloth from his jacket and dabbing at the blood with it. 

“I did it myself,” Stan just grumbled in response. Ford looked guilty. 

The two sat in silence for a bit. Ford ended up taking off his button-down shirt, and tearing pieces from it to wrap around the wound as a make-shift bandage. He moved to Stans back once that was done, and started cleaning the puss and ooze from it. It wasn’t bleeding much, as the brand had cauterized it. Ford had gotten Stan to take off his jacket, but he wouldn’t take off his T-shirt. 

“Stan, I’m not even dressing the wound properly as it is,” Ford protested. “If you would just—” 

“Ford, please, don’t,” Stan just mumbled. He was too tired, and there were too many scars. He didn’t want Ford to see them. Not now. 

Ford complied, doing his best to clean the burn. He couldn’t do much with nothing but fabric from a dirty shirt, but it was better than nothing. Ford tied the strip around his brother’s shoulder. It wasn’t a proper bandage, but it would do for now. Stan pulled his jacket back on. 

If Ford noticed the cigarette burns and knife slices on his arms, or the bullet wounds and copious amounts of other scars hidden by chest hair around his belly, he didn’t say a thing, and for that, Stan was grateful. 

When Ford was finally done, he sat by his brother once again, a hand on his shoulder. He let out a long breath. “Look, I’m sorry, alright?” He finally said. 

Stan stared at his brother as if he’d grown an extra head. Since when did Ford apologize for anything? 

“I haven’t slept in twelve days, and I wasn’t thinking straight. I should’ve considered the things you’ve been through, and how it may have affected you if I were to just contact you out of the blue like that,” Ford explains. “I’ve been on edge for the longest time. I made a mistake, and I needed to fix it quickly. The fate of the world was at stake, and I didn’t want to involve  _ anybody _ in this mess any more than I had to,” 

“It’s fine,” Stan choked out. Ford had gotten into something terrible enough to lead to whatever the hell  _ this _ was. The fate of the world was at stake, and Stan found some way to screw it up. Because of course he did. “I shoulda jus’ listened to you,” He sobbed. 

He could barely catch his breath. All he could keep thinking was  _ I fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked up… _ “God, I fucked up. You were in danger and I jus’ made it worse,” He cried. “I’m so  _ stupid! _ ” 

“You’re not stupid, Stan!” Ford insisted. Just as he would when they were kids. God, nostalgia burned. “What made you—” Ford stopped himself before he could finish the sentence. Dumb question. “Damn, I said some awful things, didn’t I?” He laughed instead, scratching the back of his head. 

Stan didn’t say a thing. He knew he’d just keep cracking if he did. 

“Oh my god…” Ford laughed. “Look what we’ve gotten ourselves into! I dragged you into  _ my  _ mess without so much as an explanation, and I expected everything to go  _ perfectly _ . Then you do your best to try and protect me by jumping into the portal and I yell at you for it,” Ford’s voice suddenly cracked. “What kind of a brother am I?” 

Now he was crying too. 

“God, I’ve been horrible. I haven’t called mom since her birthday. I haven’t  _ seen  _ her in more than a year. I haven’t even had contact with Shermie in longer! His wife had a third kid and I didn’t even bother to go see it!” 

“Sherm had a third kid?” Stan asked, surprise. “I never even got a  _ chance  _ to meet the second one!” He wailed.

“I ruined my best friends mind,” 

“I nearly killed the only gal who was ever good to me,” 

“I fell for a monster’s cheap flattery, and now the world might end because of my own arrogance and foolishness,” 

“I let a horrible man make me his play-thing in exchange for protection. I don’t even know  _ how _ many lives were ruined because of me,” 

“Man, we really did fuck up,” Ford laughed. He squeezed Stan’s shoulder a little harder. “I took every good thing I ever had for granted,” 

“And I’ve probably committed every crime under the sun by now,” Stan laughed back. “We’re nothin’ but two  _ very _ fucked up people,” 

“Stanley, I know what I said earlier, but,” Ford lamented. “I am glad you’re here with me,” 

Stan smiled, feeling like the sun came out. There was a blooming feeling in his chest. Something he hadn’t felt in so long he’d forgotten it. 

Ford hesitantly raises his hand. “High six?” He asked. 

_ So this is what happiness feels like… _

Stan practically leaped onto Ford, squeezing his brother into a hug, and sobbing into his shoulder. Ford is shocked for a moment, but hugs him back, one of his hands rubbing his brother’s head, while the other clutches onto his jacket. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Stanley sobbed. 

“No, I’m sorry,” Ford replied, his own tears dripping off his chin and soaking into his brother’s coat. “I should’ve never made you feel like you had to apologize for something,”

* * *

“Hey, he’s finally awake!” Cheers Mabel, watching as their Great Uncle Stanford groggily sat up in his hospital bed. 

His injuries consists of major bruising; both internally and externally, as well as few fresh welts from burns, some minor cuts, a broken leg, and some broken ribs. 

His brother is in a different, and entirely more horrible kind of state.  His back is more cut-up flesh than it is actual skin. His limbs are all broken in multiple places, and he’d lost so much blood that the hospital is pumping donated blood into his veins. Other injuries included burns of various degrees, cuts, stab wounds, internal and external bleeding, head trauma, and what appeared to be evidence of other supernatural means of injury. 

But the most terrifying part is that both men have the same words carved into their skin. For Ford, the words are an old scar on his wrist, that have faded slightly, but could still be seen. For Stan, they are freshly cut into his deep into stomach, bleeding out and scabbing over, before being covered with bandages. 

_ BILL WAS HERE.  _

So the dream demon  _ had _ targeted their great uncles. 

Ford sits up in his bed, eyes darting around frantically. “Stanley!” He shouts out. “Where is—” He lets out a sigh of relief upon seeing his brother in the bed next to him. 

“You're in a hospital in Gravity Falls,” Dipper explains. “You two were, uh, not in a good state,” 

“Gravity Falls?” Ford questions. “We’re… back?” 

“Yep!” Mabel says excitedly, giving him two thumbs up. “We opened an interdimensional portal and rescued you and your brother!” 

Ford blinks at her, looking very much like an owl with his stare. “Ok, but how?” 

“We found your journals,” Dipper explains. “Shermie always told us stories about you. He really missed you guys. We thought it’d be cool to bring you back,” 

Ford still looks bewildered, but was obviously putting his questions aside for the more important one. “How is Shermie?” 

Dipper and Mabel share a look. There was a reason they’d been sent into foster care rather than to live with their grandfather after their parents died. 

“He’s alive,” Mabel decides to say, and elaborates no further. They would cross that bridge when they get there. “But anyways, are you two okay? You look like you just escaped a hoard of killbillies!” 

“What do you know about Killbillies?” He asks them, his eyes narrowing at them. 

“We’ve been a part of things in Gravity Falls for eight years,” Dipper explains. “But we can tell you about that later. I’ve got so many questions! How’d you fall into the portal? How’d you build one in the first place? And where have you been?” 

Ford doesn’t look like he wants to answer any of those questions. 

“Sorry,” Dipper mutters. “I just got excited,” 

“The first question you really need to answer though is how do you feel,” Mabel buts in. “Are you alright? Are there any concerns you have?” 

They waited impatiently for Ford to answer them, feeling slightly scrutinized under his gaze. 

Finally, Ford answers them with a question of his own. “Why did you open the portal?” 

“We told you, we wanted to save our grandpa’s brothers,” Mabel says simply. Ford doesn't look like he believes her. 

“Why? You were born long after our disappearance. Why would you wanna save two perfect strangers?” 

“Because we’re family?” Dipper offers up, not sure if Ford would believe the answer or not. That is all there was too it; all there ever was, but Dipper is aware it seemed like too simple of an answer. As if the intentions are too pure, and there _had_ to be some ulterior motive. 

Ford glares at them with suspicion, but before he could interrogate the twins any further, his brother lets out a moan from the other bed. 

“Hey, Stanley’s waking up!” Mabel cheers, making her way over to the bed and looking down at the old man in it. Dipper decides to do the same. 

Stan finally looks up at them with glazed-over eyes. He seems to be looking through them, as if unaware of his surroundings. “Where…” He grumbled. “Stanford…” 

“He’s right next to you,” Dipper tells him. 

Stan finally got a good look at Dipper, and his eyes cleared for a moment with a strange familiarity. “Junior? Is tha’ you?” 

Dipper quirks an eyebrow. Who was Junior? 

“Junior!” Stan cries out softly, his eyes welling up with tears. He reaches a limp hand up, and touches Dipper’s face. “I thought you—” 

Dipper instinctually backs away from the old man. He doesn't like it when strangers touch him. 

Stan seems to panic. Whoever he thinks Dipper is appeared to be slipping away from him. “Junior, wait! I’m sorry! I- I tried, I promise!” 

His arm goes limp as unconsciousness takes him again. 

“What was that all about?” Mabel asks, confused. Obviously the man was delusional, probably due to pain medications and injuries, and all the other scientific stuff she didn’t always understand, but who is Junior, and why does this man think Dipper was him? 

“You bear an uncanny resemblance to Stanford Exlotle-Pines. We called him Junior, as he shared my name,” Ford begins to explain, a sad look on his face. “He was my brother’s eldest child,” 

Mabel looks horrified. “He had a family?!” She gasped. “Oh no! We didn’t take them away from him, did we?” 

“We can figure out a way to start up the portal again if we have to,” Dipper tries to assure his great uncle, terrified at the thought of having possibly ripped the two men away from their children and nibbling's respectively. “We can get you guys back to your family, I promise,” 

“There’s no need,” Ford says, bitterly. “Stanley’s wife and children were killed six years ago,” 

Mabel gulps, looking down at her mismatched hands. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together; Bill Cipher, the dream demon, had been the one to inflict all those wounds on their great uncles. Bill was likely responsible for the death’s of Stan’s family. And if he had done it six years ago... 

Dipper looks at his sister as her face pales. He’s never seen her look so horrified. But he is horrified too. He knows exactly what conclusion Mabel has jumped to. And while they couldn’t be sure, the feeling still hits Dipper’s stomach like a pile of rocks. 

Six years ago, Stan’s family was killed. 

Six years ago, Mabel tricked the dream demon into helping them. 

They had provoked him. Made him angry. 

Was it possible he’d taken his anger out on Stan's wife and kids? 

"Oh god Dipper,” Mabel whispers to her brother. “What have we done?”

* * *

When Ford and Stan finally break apart from their hug, the Nightmare Realm has gotten darker. The sky had shifted from mostly pinks and, reds, and purples, to darker purples, blues and blacks. It was nighttime now. 

“I’m surprised nothing’s found us by now,” Stan said, impressed. He’d been trying so hard to run to somewhere Ford wouldn’t find him, that he found some place nobody  _ but Ford _ ended up finding him. Irony. 

“We should probably find some sort of asteroid or cave to hide in,” Ford stated. “I spotted some wormholes as I went. They either lead to other dimensions, or instant death,” 

Stan shrugged, being scarily nonchalant about the possibility of death via black hole. “I like those odds,” He said, much to Ford's horror. “What? I had worse,” Stan tried explaining once he got a look at his brother’s face expression. This statement did not help. 

“Well, whatever they are, we need information,” Ford decided it’d be better to go into nerd mode than to question his brother. “Maybe it’s possible we can find some refugees. It seems like Bill’s cronies have been using lifeforms as toys, so it’s possible that there’s a section of those who escaped them like we did,” 

“I kinda wanna test the wormholes,” Stan butted in. 

Ford ignored him. “Once we figure out who our allies are, we need to conduct a plan. We cannot be sure if Earth is in danger anymore, but I don’t want to risk it. Plus, now that we know it exists, there’s the matter of an entire multiverse in question. The safest bet to eliminate the threat that is Bill Cipher is quite efficiently, to eliminate Bill Cipher himself,” 

Stan cracked a wide smile. “So we get ta stick it to that triangle guy?” He asked, punching his palm with his fist. 

Ford lit up with a smile of his own; the enthusiasm was contagious. “Yeah, we get to stick it to him!” He chanted, ignoring the crude words for the fun of the moment. The two twins exchanged excitement, making their individual happiness grow. They were in this together. Till the end. 

“OH, SPEAK OF THE DEVIL!” A nasally screech echoed through the are, as the are was suddenly flooded by yellow light. “IT’S THE TRIANGLE GUY!” 

Stan and Ford both wrapped protective arms around each other, glaring daggers at the entity that was Bill Cipher. 

“YOU TWO WERE QUITE A PAIN TO FIND. HONESTLY, ALL I WANTED TO DO WAS KILL YOU SLOWLY, SIXER, SINCE I DON’T REALLY NEED YA ANYMORE,” Bill laughed. “BUT NOW THAT YOU’RE BROTHER’S HERE, I GOT A BETTER IDEA!” 

He reached down and grabbed Stanley in a giant fist. 

“Let him go!” Ford screamed, jumping towards the giant, only to be snatched in the other hand. 

Stan struggled, screamed and cursed, but he couldn’t make his way out of the crushing grip. 

“Don’t hurt him! Don’t hurt him, please!” Ford begged, watching his brother struggle, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to get out no matter how hard he tried. 

“You better put us down, you scalene fuck!” Stan growled. “You lay a finger on Ford I’m gonna—” 

“YEET!!” Bill cried out, tossing Stanley far away from them…

And straight into a wormhole. 

“STANLEY!!” Ford cried out, watching what was either a portal or a death certificate close. “Stanley no! Please! I just got him back!!” Tears fell down Ford’s cheeks as he tried to kick his way out of Bill's fingers. He knew it was pointless, but he’d be damned if he didn’t at least try. He had to get to his brother. He had to  _ do something _ . 

“OH MAN, YOUR CRYING?!” Bill laughed viciously. “AND HERE I THOUGHT YOU DIDN’T LIKE THAT STUPID MEAT SACK YOU CALLED A BROTHER!” 

“Shut up!” Ford yelled. “He’s not stupid! Bring him back! Now!” 

“AND WHY WOULD YOU WANT THAT?” Bill asked, shaking his head, taunting. What felt like having his heart ripped out to Ford was nothing more than a sick form of entertainment for Bill. “DIDN’T HE DESTROY YOUR PROJECT? ISN’T HE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOU NOT GETTING INTO YOUR  _ DREAM SCHOOL _ ? ISN’T HE… OH, WHAT WAS THE WORD YOU USED AGAIN? Bill’s eyes twisted, forming an expression that resembled smiling. “RIGHT!” He squeezed Ford hard enough to break some ribs. “ **SUFFOCATING** ,”

Suddenly, Ford was dropped to the ground, left wheezing. “BUT, IF YOU CARE ABOUT HIM THAT MUCH, THEN GOOD LUCK TRYING TO FIND HIM!” He cackled. “OR NOT. HE COULD BE DEAD,” He suggested, shrugging his shoulders. 

“ANYWAYS, BYE!!!!” Bill jeered, before floating backwards until he completely disappeared. 

The moment Ford could stand up he ran towards where the wormhole used to be. Where his brother was tossed into. He looked around, trying to find any sign of it being there; any possible trace it could have left. But there was nothing. 

Stanford fell to his knees, mourning the loss of his brother. Stanley had either been thrown into a black hole-like vortex, which would’ve killed him instantly, or he was teleported to some far-off dimension, where anything could be happening to him. There was no way to know. 

Either way, Stanley was gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, I'm sorry. 
> 
> So, things of note. 
> 
> I gave Stan a family. Thought it'd be a nice thing for him to have during his travelings. He likes kids, and he's always wanted to fall in love, so I thought, hey? Why not? 
> 
> I also kill the family off, as you see, because I'm horrible. 
> 
> But anyways, his wife was an alien woman named Zeena Exlotle, and he had three kids, who are all half alien. His oldest kid looks like Dipper. They're all OC's, but I hope I can make them seem interesting. I'll probably draw them later at some point. It's gonna be a few chapters before we introduce his children, though Zeena herself should be introduced rather quickly. 
> 
> Until next chapter!


	3. Stanford's Regrets / Dipper and Mabel's Guide to Getting Information Out of Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the past, Stan and Ford find themselves separated, but both are determined to find eachother. In the present, Mabel embarks on a dangerous mission to pry information out of Bill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BIG WARNING: There is a scene that involves an attempted rape, as well as strong illusions to the subject. Nothing is being described, but it's still there. Just a warning. Also, some blink-and-you'll-miss-it fat-shaming on Bill's part, because Bill is a dick.

Stan woke up, a headache throbbing in his forehead. Colors swam past his vision, and he couldn’t quite make any of them out. The surface felt familiar, like the dry dirt of the Arizonian desert. Every limb ached, and he wondered who beat him up and left him there to die now? 

He tried to push himself off of the ground, but his arms gave out, the sound of bones grinding together ringing through the silence.  _ What happened? _

He could remember falling. And the most bizarre, realistic nightmare. And…

“STANFORD!!” He cried out, pushing himself off the ground in an instant, only to regret it. His head throbbed, and his arms flared up as if having been lit on fire. Every bone in his body screamed in pain. Something must have happened to them. 

He could remember what happened now. He had been talking to Stanford. They went through that portal in the basement together, and ended up in a literal hell. They had made up, sort of? Ford hugged him and was being nice, at least. But just when things began looking up, the triangle tossed him into a wormhole, and he ended up in  _ this _ place. 

But what  _ was _ this place? 

Everything hurts, and Stan can barely move, but it’s not like it’s the first time. He’d just have to pick a direction, and drag himself in the direction chosen, hoping he could find some sort of hospital before he died. 

He wouldn’t die. Not yet. He just got his brother back, he wasn’t going to lose him again. He just had to keep going.

It occurred to Stanley as he dragged himself across this desert that wherever he landed himself might not have life on it. He hadn’t died yet, so that meant the air was breathable wherever he was, but that was all he knew. He hadn’t seen a single plant. He had no idea where he ended up. As if the looming fear of helplessness wasn’t enough, it felt like his body was on fire. Sickening cracks of bone grating against bone screeched out of his arms with each movement he made. They had to have been broken. Everything had to have been broken. 

He takes a rest, gasping for breath, before curling up into a ball and sobbing. God, it hurt so bad, it hurt so bad! 

Where was Ford? Was he ok? Stan remembered watching the wormhole shut the moment he fell through it. How high up did he fall from? That didn’t matter. 

Ford was stuck in the nightmare realm without him. Exactly what Stan had been trying to avoid by following his brother. And now…

Did the world really hate him that much? 

“I’m gonna die here,” He sobbed to himself. “I’m gonna die here and I’ll never see Ford again!” 

That’s when he saw it; over the horizon where two figures. Was he hallucinating?

They finally got close enough for him to make them out, and… yep, he was  _ definitely _ hallucinating, because standing right in front of him were two creatures that looked like living piles of mush. 

“Xigrqq nzhb. Eywta xccl eq zgbvp imyaqfnla m bmtiz,” One of them gurgled, in a language that Stan had never heard before. The accent sorta sounded like someone from Mexico was trying to mimic a german accent while there was a bunch of spit in their mouth. 

Stan took a moment to recover from the shock of what he was seeing. They were just aliens, after all. Not the weirdest thing he’s seen all day (was it still the same day? How long had it been?). Besides, they were a life capable of speech, and seemed at least  _ somewhat _ intelligent (not like Stanley would ever judge). They could possibly help him. 

“H-hey,” Stan put on his best charismatic smile, and tried to look as presentable as he possibly could, considering he was laying on the ground, and could barely move without feeling flares of pain. “D-do you guys think you can— ow, uhg, give me a hand?” It occured to Stan that whatever these beings are, they probably did not speak English. They also probably didn’t speak Spanish either. Or any human language for that matter. Still, it was worth a shot. “Please, I’m in a lot of pain, and I need to find my brother,” 

“Ab ehv. Fbaz qpcga layku'b qpwu abysr omfsaqo wgtuah!” One of the creatures laughed. Stan had a feeling that they were mocking him, which was just  _ great _ . “Fc kai frsmw qboaaz, mn nwffzr kruah uwamz?” The thing addressed him personally, shoving its face into Stan. He backed up on instinct. 

“S-sorry,” He stuttered out. Jeez, these things were creepy. “I’m not sure what you're saying,” He kept on smiling, hoping to hide how nervous he was. If they decided to fight him, he wouldn’t be able to fight back in his condition. Not exactly a new situation, except for the fact that these were giant goop aliens instead of large men. “But, um, if you guys can help me, that'd be nice…” 

One of the aliens poked him in the ribs, hard, and Stan let out an involuntary yelp of pain. The creature's face split, revealing a mouth, as it made a movement that resembled smiling. “Un'k pvvojll,” It gurgled viciously, with a familiar look in the two slits that could be considered eyes. It was predatory. Stan has seen it before, and a sinking feeling in his chest hit harder than ever. He  _ couldn’t _ get into another situation like the ones he’d been in during the past ten years. Not on a foreing planet/dimension of all places! 

The thing grabbed Stan’s chin in a familiar motion; a harsh clamp, as the assailant would examine your face, staring at you like an object. It was terrifying, because you knew right away that you would become their victim. You can only hope that whatever kind of victim you ended up being wasn’t one of the more traumatizing kinds.

The alien continued, it’s voice only sounding more gurgled, as if more saliva was gathered in it’s mouth. “Nol pn iy hhbob aa cb, cl zpaodk jq u yymmn hsikyj pv aoj niyyk,” It sneered. It was practically drooling now. 

“Listen, guys,” Stan begged desperately, panic settling into his stomach. He didn’t know what they were going to do with him. He didn’t know what they  _ could _ do to him. He couldn’t escape them; not in his condition. “I’m not sure what you want, but can’t we just talk about this like reasonable—” 

He’s cut off when the creature shoves a black stick with two prongs on the edge of it into Stan’s chest. The familiar jolt of electricity burns though his body, then everything goes black.

* * *

Ford stood, frozen, unable to look anywhere else besides the spot his brother had just disappeared from. Despair flooded through his body. This wasn’t supposed to happen!

He should’ve never involved Stanley in this mess. It was _ his _ burden to bear, and thanks to his selfish involvement of another person, Stan was lost to some other dimension. Some place Ford couldn’t find him. 

“God, I’m so sorry!” He wailed out, falling to the ground and curling in on himself. “I should’ve  _ never _ dragged you into this!” Now Stan was paying for  _ his _ mistake, and it was all his fault. 

_ “All I ever wanted was to make things up to ya, ok?”  _

God, it could’ve been the final moments they had ever seen each other, and he hadn’t even been that  _ nice _ to his brother. A simple talk and a hug was no way to make up for everything. Stan had followed Ford through the portal so that he wouldn’t be alone, but now… 

“Damn it!” Ford cried. “I’m horrible! I did this to him!” He sobbed. “I did this,” 

The sounds of howling carried through the air, alerting Ford to the presence at hand. A new determination settled into his stomach. Stan had followed him into this hellscape without a moment's hesitation. Stan responded to Ford’s letter in under two days despite 10 years without contact. Stan had proven time and time again that he would do  _ anything _ for Ford. 

It was about time Ford returned the favor. 

He would find his brother,  _ and  _ he would destroy Bill Cipher. Stan wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be; Ford would know. He’d know if Stanley was dead. 

At least he hoped he would. 

Either way, the first thing he had to do was find himself some shelter. He couldn’t very well find his brother if he got himself killed by some nightmare creature. 

Ford hopped through the floating debris within the nightmare realm, making sure to stay far away as possible from anything that sounded or looked like a living creature. Maybe Bill wasn’t purposely trying to find him anymore, but Ford had a feeling that if one of the abominations  _ did _ find him, Bill wouldn’t hesitate to let them eat him, or worse. 

He eventually came across a cave-like structure to hide out within the floating asteroids. The moment he entered it, he felt like falling over. It looked like the fatigue finally caught up to him. The coffee he had gulped down a few hours ago could only last so long, after all, especially with the last time he slept being 12 days ago. 

Ford walked further into the cave, trying to come up with a game plan, while struggling to think. He knew he had to collect information. Jumping into just  _ any _ wormhole would be foolish without knowing if they were safe. He could also use some form of guide, or an explanation as to what the hell he’d gotten himself into. 

His eyes closed against his will, and he fell onto the asteroid floor. Maybe a nap would be good. 

What felt like only seconds later, he woke up, face to face with a being that appeared to be a mix between a pirate and a guinea pig. It was short, burly, and  _ heavy _ , and it was sitting straddles on For’s chest, pointing a rather sharp-looking stick in its face. 

_ “Ghg yegg—”  _ It snarled in an unfamiliar language, before interrupting itself. “ _ Cuqg, avrxy lvh mbal grpzbc ygrw ub?” _

Ford could tell from the voice fluctuations that those words must have been a question, but he still had no idea what he was saying. 

“Uh, sorry!” Ford said quickly, placing his hands in a surrendering position. “I don’t speak that language, but I mean you no harm!” It did occur to him that his words might’ve been pointless. 

“Fc kai frsmw unnoofwp ecyyca?” It asked him. 

“I’m sorry, what?” Ford responded. The language he was speaking earlier and the language he was speaking now sounded different, but Ford couldn’t be sure.

The guinea pig rolled it’s eyes, getting off Ford and gesturing for him to follow it deeper into the cave.

Not sure what else to do, and also a bit curious, Ford followed.

* * *

Mabel leans against the wall, tapping her foot. Her right hand is covered in a lot of sweat, and she finds herself wishing for her old hand again. 

“C-come on, Mabel,” Dipper tries to assure her, though he’s hesitant. “We can’t be certain that it was  _ Bill _ ,” He’s trying to make his sister feel better, but he isn’t even sure if he believes that himself. “And even if it  _ was  _ Bill, he might have done it anyways, regardless if we pissed him off,” 

The two twins stand outside their Great Uncle’s hospital room, trying to process the news they just heard. Stanley Pines was a husband and a father, and that was all taken away from him six years ago. Six years ago, Mabel tricked Bill Cipher into giving them his help, with the only price being her original right hand. Of course the dream demon would be angry. And of course he would take it out on the members of the Pines family that were not temporarily untouchable. 

“I feel horrible,” Mabel just says.

Dipper gives up. “Me too, sis… Me too,” 

The two kids sit down on the floor, not really caring about the germs at the moment. They’re clothing is covered in blood and grime anyways. Dipper eye’s his sisters bandaged legs sadly, before placing an arm around her shoulder, and letting her lean on him. 

“Damn it, what were we expecting?” He laughs bitterly. “Did we really think we could just drag our Great Uncles away from their lives and not expect consequences? I mean, if Stan’s family was still alive we would’ve just taken them away from him!” 

“We already did that, Dipper,” Mabel reminds him miserably. “Actually,  _ I  _ did that,” 

“Mabel—” Dipper tries, but his sister cuts him off. 

“This isn’t your fault at all, Dipper,” Mabel says. “Tricking Bill Cipher was my idea. You shouldn’t take the blame for that. 

“Mabel, we’re in this together,” Dipper reminds her. “Your burdens are my burdens. So what if it was your idea? I could’ve talked you out of it, but I honestly thought it was our best bet at the time. We  _ both _ did this,” 

Mabel decides to not argue. The twins sit in silence for a little while, until Mabel suddenly stands up. “He wanted something out of this!” She cries, as if it was a new realization. 

Dipper raises an eyebrow at her. “Yeah, we kinda figured that out with how insistent he was that we accept his help,” 

“No, that’s not the issue!” Mabel frets. “He needed something from us; that’s why he would’ve been angry that we tricked him; because without a deal, we wouldn’t give him the final piece of the puzzle,” 

Dipper quickly puts together what his sister is thinking. “You think he used Stan and Ford to get that piece?” Mabel nods. “That make’s too much sense,” Dipper continues. “He harrases us for two years trying to get our help, and when we prove that he won’t be getting it from us, he goes after our great uncles to get it from them,” 

“Oh god, he was torturing them!” Mable exclaims. All those bandages on the two men’s bodies. The words  _ BILL WAS HERE _ freshly carved into Stan’s belly. It all made too much sense. 

“But what could he have possibly wanted from us that he could’ve also gotten from them?” Dipper wonders out loud. That was the real question. One that they needed an answer for if they didn’t want to face dire consequences. 

Mabel is quiet for a long time, before saying, “We could ask him,” 

“No,” Dipper says firmly. “Not happening. Last time you interacted with that psycho you lost your hand—” 

“I willingly  _ gave _ my hand,” Mabel corrected, but Dipper wasn’t listening. 

“He’s a dangerous, crazy, powerful  _ thing _ from another dimension who’s been tormenting  _ us _ and our  _ Great Uncles _ since the moment we’ve arrived in Gravity Falls!” Dipper shouts. “He’s dangerous, Mabel, and you just wanna go  _ talk _ to him!?” 

“I’ll ask him what he did to Stan’s family,” Mabel plots. “If I can get him monologuing, maybe I can also fish out more information than he plans on revealing,” 

“Mabel, I know you're good at this kind of thing, but  _ listen to me _ ,” Dipper begs. He didn’t have a better idea at the moment, but there was no way in hell he was going to let his sister face that monster. “He’s got a target on all our backs, but  _ you _ are the one who tricked him! He’s gonna especially be angry with  _ you! _ What if he kills you?!” 

“I tricked him before, I can do it again!” Mabel insists. “I mean, do you have a better idea?” 

“Not right now, but if you gave me  _ time _ —” 

“What if we don’t have time?!” She interrupts frantically. “What if, as we speak, Bill is getting his hands on the thing he wants right now? I’ll go do this, then come right back,” She promises. 

“Mabel—” 

“I’m the better liar, so it should be me,” She says, which is the logical decision. Dipper sucked at lying. “I can get him to monologue. I’ll be ok. I promise,” 

Dipper considers his options. Either his sister can go throw herself into the wolves (again), or they can wait, giving Bill the possibility to get what he wants before they can do anything about it. “Fine. I trust you,” He says. “I’ll head back to the cabin and see what I can find. Call me the moment you get information,” 

“I will,” Mabel promises. “We’ll figure this out together, like we always do,”

“Don’t go by yourself,” Dipper commands. “Take someone with you; preferably someone who knows Bill Cipher,” 

“There’s only one person who fits that description and the two of you don’t get along,” Mabel laughs. 

“I know, I know,” Dipper sighs. “But he’s proved to be somewhat trustworthy. Plus he hates Bill as much as we do,” He eyes the crutches his sister is balancing on. “Are you gonna be ok walking up the mountain?” 

“I’ve done worse,” She shrugs. She holds out a fist for her brother to bump. “Mystery twins?” 

Dipper accepts the fist. “Mystery twins!” He affirms. Mabel turns to leave, and Dipper enter’s his Great Uncle’s rooms to tell them that they wouldn’t be there for a while. 

* * *

Mabel gets out of her car with some difficulty, and heads towards the front door of the house that belonged to the frenemy of theirs that had the most direct counters with Bill Cipher. She rings the doorbell, and is glad to see that he answered instead of his mom or stepfather. 

“Hey Gideon,” She greets the white-haired boy with a smile. When she first met him, he was only tall as two gnomes, but after his growth spurt kicked in, he ended up being as tall as his late father, who was a good six-foot-four. 

“Oh Mabel!” The boy chimes in a heavy southern accent, smiling brightly. The boy had gotten over his old crush on her (or at least Mabel hoped he had), but it seemed like Mabel was his only friend. Not many people  _ liked _ the poor kid after all the chaos he caused in their town, but Mabel had always been the kind of person to give others the benefit of the doubt. After all; Giddeon  _ was _ just a little kid when he had caused such troubles anyways. He’s grown since then, or at least had grown out of evil. “What happened to you?” He asked her, looking at her bandages and crutches in concern. “Gravity went all wacky earlier today. Was that you?” 

“Yep!” Mabel announces proudly. “My brother and I  _ finally  _ accomplished our goal!” 

“Really?” He asks, surprised. “That’s amazing! I knew you could do it!” 

“Yeah, well,” Mabel says, awkwardly rubbing the back of her head. “Our actions  _ might _ have had a few unintended consequences, and now I need to journey to the caves to ask good ol’ Bill Cipher some questions,” 

“Bill Cipher!?” He squeals out, his voice covered in several layers of fear. The boy knew that demon well, and the relationship wasn’t anything  _ good _ . 

“Yeah, him,” Mabel quickly pressed on. “Care to come with me?” She offered, putting on a showman’s smile, hoping to god that her natural charm could somehow overpower the boy’s fear of the dream demon. 

It did not. 

“No, absolutely not!” Gideon snaps. “Why in the world would I want to do  _ anything _ that involves that demon after what he did to me!” 

“Gideon, I’m gonna try to figure out a way to  _ beat _ him!” Mabel tries to explain. “And I need your help—” 

“No!” He refuses. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere  _ near _ that beast. Maybe the strange shenanigans of this godforsaken town please  _ you _ , but I told ya before, I ain’t gonna involve myself in anything weird or strange,  _ especially _ if it involves  _ Bill _ !!”

He’d been very adamant with Mabel that he wouldn’t be involving himself in their goal, or any other weird things that might be happening in Gravity Falls after he and Bill caused the Shapeshifter Incident of 2015. It had been four years, and Gideon had stuck by that promis. 

“The author of the journals might be in trouble!” She offers, hoping his fascination with the three books during his childhood would still hold up. 

“So what do I care! Those books gave me nothin’ but trouble!” He shouts. “If I never found that damned journal near my school, then none of this would’ve—” He stops, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Mabel. Your my only friend, and I woulda helped ya with anything else, but not this,” 

“Gideon, I can’t go at this alone,” Mabel insists. If anyone can help them with a Bill-related problem, she knew that Gideon could. He had spent the majority of his childhood being one of Bill’s pawns, meaning that out of everyone in the town, he would know Bill’s tricks the best. He would be the perfect ally against the demon.

“Then ask one of ya better friends,” He snaps. “You got people that ain’t me that can help ya,” A small pain of guilt forms in Mabel’s stomach. She’s aware that Giddeon is aware that he’s kind of the last resort friend in Mabel’s hierarchy. It isn’t like Mabel had tried to make that obvious or anything, she’s just closer with the others. And she does feel bad for the kid, considering she is one of the only people in town who hadn’t shunned him, and he wasn’t even her top-tier friend. “What about your brother?” He asks her. 

“He’s got a different mission,” Mabel tells him. “I really need your help for this. I mean, don’t you wanna stick it to that demon after everything he’s done to you?” 

“Not really,” 

“Come on!” Mabel insists. “I’ll come over to your house every day for makeovers for the rest of the year if you do this, I promise!”

Gideon looks as if he’s actually considering her deal. On the one hand, he wanted nothing to do with Bill or the weirdness of Gravity Falls. The only reason he hadn’t just straight-up left the town by now was because of his mother. On the other hand, an offer for social visits didn’t come by often, and it wasn’t like Mabel to break a promise. 

“Only if you pinky swear!” He relents. 

“I pinky swear,” Mabel promises with a smile. “Now let's go! To the mountains!”

* * *

Ford followed the guinea pig deeper into the cave, until they came across a small band of alien refugees gathered around a purple fire. There were three of them; a being with horns growing from it’s head, a long-necked green thing with a missing hand, and a creature that resembled a pig. 

“Cbafvrt czq?” Muttered the green one. 

“Js pasfp'h ebsnm qayabp. Uuhs uka m ffnpgxmhbt,” The guinea pig commanded. It seemed as if he were the leader amongst this strange group. 

The Horned one handed Ford a device that looked like a small computer built into a watch. Ford strapped it on, and it started to beep, green symbols changing around until they spelled out “English,”

“Can you understand us now?” The guinea pig asks, perfectly in a language that Ford can actually understand. 

“How—?” He asked, only to be interrupted. 

“It’s an interdimensional linguistics translator,” Explained the green alien. “It seems you have no knowledge of Galactic Common, so it is best that you wear this for the time being,” 

Ford nods. “Thank you,” He said, before sitting down next to the bright purple flames. The flames admitted a comfortable heat, and lit up the darkness of the cave. “Who are all of you?” 

“I was a minor,” Said the horned being. “As was Pigsey over here,” He explained, gesturing to the pig-like creature. “We were just doing our jobs when we fell into a wormhole and ended up here,” 

“Anik and I were refugees,” The guinea pig said, gesturing to the long-necked alien. She nodded, and continued. 

“Captain Tre´Hauld here was taking me and many of my kind to Dimension 52 for relocation after my own home was destroyed,” The alien– Anik– explained. “We are the only one’s left in that ship,” 

“The nasty’s out there ate my entire crew, and all of Anik’s brethren,” Captain Tre´Hauld elaborated. “They even ate the poor woman’s arm before I was able to find her,” 

Ford sighed. These beings were not making him feel better about his odds, or his brother’s odds for that matter, of survival. “Is there any way to get out of here?” He asked. 

“Some people tried jumpin’ through a wormhole,” Tre´Hauld told him. “Not sure if they’re dead or alive, much less where they ended up. They promised they’d send someone to rescue us, but that hasn’t happened, so…” 

_ So they’re probably dead _ . Ford finishes internally, an uncomfortable feeling settling into his stomach. Stan had been lost to one of those wormholes. There was no proof that he’d survived. 

_ No. _ Ford told himself.  _ Stanley is my  _ twin _. I’d know if he was dead _ . 

Sure, twinpathy wasn’t exactly a proven thing, but Ford’s deeper instincts were telling him that Stan was alive. That had to count for something, right? 

“So, you know our stories,” The horned creature suddenly said. “What’s up with you? How’d you get here,” 

“Well, um,” Ford hesitated. His story wasn’t exactly one he liked sharing. Plus, he wasn’t sure how they’d react to knowing that he’d once been allies with Bill Cipher, the king of the realm that had caused them so much strife. He didn’t want to risk them turning against him. 

“You do not have to say if you don’t want to,” Anik spoke up. “We do know that within the multiverse, humans are generally less traveled than other species. It’s a curious thing that a human, of all creatures, ended up here,” 

“Plus, you don’t speak Galactic common,” The horned one added. “So you must be from either an isolated dimension, or one that has yet to explore the multiverse,” 

Ford nodded. “I’m from a place called Earth,” 

“Which Earth?” 

Ford quirked an eyebrow. “I see there are more than one Earth’s, apparently,” 

“So you don’t know which one?” Asked Anik. 

“How would I know which Earth I came from?” 

The beings all looked between each other, and ended up shrugging. 

“So, if you're from an earth without interdimensional travel,” Tre´Hauld asked him, “how in the hell did you end up here?” 

Ford sighed deeply. Maybe it would be good to have a few allies. 

Besides, he  _ had _ to find Stanley. No matter what. 

“I made a grave mistake in trusting the wrong person,” Ford started. 

He explained how he met Bill Cipher, and how Bill had convinced him that he was a friend. He explained how Bill said he was a muse, and that he would help Ford achieve greatness. He told them of the portal he built, and the accident that caused his best friend to leave the project, traumatized. 

“That explains why your eyes were glowing when I first found you,” Tre´Hauld informed him. “Your body was swaying as if you were sleep-walking, and you tried attacking me when we made eye contact. You didn’t really do a good job of that, though,” 

Ford sighed. Bill must have possessed him in his sleep. He was hoping that it would end now that Bill had lost interest. “I apologize,” Ford hummed. “It seems as if he is still making use of my body whenever I fall asleep,” 

The aliens were quiet for a while, contemplating Ford’s story. Finally, they all gave him sympathetic looks, surprising him. 

“Bill Cipher is an expert trickster,” Anik said, her voice full of empathy. “He is the one who destroyed my original home, and the reason we were fleeing. His manipulation knows no bounds,” 

Ford laughed bitterly. “I guess I’m not the only fool in this universe,” His thoughts drifted to his brother. Stanley would’ve  _ never _ fallen for cheap flattery. If only… 

“Then there was my brother,” Ford continued. “He was a ball of energy, and the one person who stood by me no matter what. But come high school, I had an opportunity to leave my home for one of the best schools in my country. But that would’ve meant leaving him behind,” 

“So you left him!?” Anik suddenly snapped, accusatory. Ford nearly jumped. It seemed as if this was something personal to the alien, whether it was because of her planet's traditions or customs, or because she had lost her people, Ford couldn’t be sure. 

“No, I—!” Ford tried to deny, but then stopped to think about it. He hadn’t contacted his family in  _ so _ long. The only way he’d been able to find Stan was by delivering the postcard through the all-knowing mailbox in the middle of the Gravity Falls woods. He had expected Stan to come to him after years of no contact, and  _ he did. _

Ford groaned. “I’m an idiot,” He said. “I lost the opportunity I had to go to the school because of my brother, so I let him lose everything. My father threw him out, and I just stood there. He asked for help and I didn’t give it to him, but the moment I asked  _ him _ to help  _ me _ he came running to my side. How could I have done that to him?” 

“Your father is a  _ Llgotnm Seweaxu, _ ” Anik spat bitterly. “Where is your brother now?” 

Ford looked down at his feet. He didn’t know, and that terrified him. He should’ve never involved Stan in any of this. His brother was lost and probably hurt, and maybe not dead (He prayed to every deity out there that his instincts were right, and Stan was not dead), but his odds weren’t good, and it was all because of him. Because he expected his brother to clean up his mess. 

Why did he always have to take his  _ true _ friends and family for granted? 

“I’m not sure,” Ford said, with a bitter laugh and the feeling of being choked. “I called him to my home to ask him to hide the instructions for my portal. I gave him the book and told him to leave. He thought I was going to abandon him again. Maybe he was right. I’m honestly not sure what I would’ve done after he’d taken my journal. He got mad, and then we started to fight. I really hurt him,” He shakes his head, looking up at his hiding mates, all of them staring at him with a mix of various emotions. “Anyways, in the end, we ended up falling into the portal together. Well, he pushed me, and then jumped in after me the moment he realized I wasn’t going to simply land on the floor,” 

He didn’t mention the brand on his brother’s shoulder. Raw flesh that’d been sizzled into crisps. Red and burning, oozing pus and blood. A mark that was bound to scar into permanency. He did that. He hurt his brother. He called him up after ten years of no contact to clean up  _ his _ mess, and then expected him to obey like a dog, then burned him when he didn’t. 

“My brother is stupidly loyal,” Ford laughed, the bittersweet taste of nostalgia in his mouth. “After everything that happened he didn’t even hesitate to follow me into this hell. I was angry with him at first. I thought that he should’ve left me behind, and shut down the portal from the other side. He could never be that callous. It’s not in his nature,” 

Ford had told his own brother that he would’ve left him in the nightmare realm to die, had the situations been reversed. What a heartless thing to say to someone, especially your own brother. Ford was ashamed to think that Stan would’ve capable of such a thing. But he was even more ashamed that  _ he _ probably was. 

If situations had been reversed, Ford cannot say what he would do. He honestly doesn't know. 

And that scared him. 

“We did end up talking things out, thank goodness. I’d hate myself if the last thing I had done to him was shout,” Ford shook his head. “But it wasn’t enough. One conversation isn’t gonna make up for what happened between us, so my first priority is to find him,” 

“Where did he go?” Asked Tre´Hauld. 

“Bill found the two of us, and decided it would be funny to toss my brother into a wormhole and watch me look for him,” Ford explained, his teeth grinding in anger. “That bastard sent my brother who-knew-where, and had the audacity to laugh at me. It’s my fault Stanley got dragged into this mess. I’m going to make sure he doesn’t pay for my mistakes more than he already has,” 

“But we have no idea where the wormholes lead!” Tre´Hauld reminded him. “Your brother could be—” 

“He’s not dead,” Ford stated, calmly and firmly. That he knew. He could be certain that Stanley was still alive, no matter the odds, or what anyone else said. If his brother had died, he would’ve felt it. He  _ would’ve _ . “I’d know if he was dead,” 

“What, are the two of you twins or something?” The horned man laughed. 

“Yes, actually,” Ford snapped. 

The alien looked a bit surprised, but he shrugged and said, “yeah, you’d know if he was alive,” 

“Twin’s are a special thing no matter the universe,” Anik chanted, as if repeating an ancient proverb. “They share a kind of connection that nothing else can compare to,” 

A cluster of relief opened in Ford’s chest. He would know. He would  _ always _ know. 

“How do you plan on finding him though?” 

Ford shrugged. “I’ll take my chances with one of the wormholes, and continue on from there,” He walked a little ways away from the fire, and started pacing, trying to come up with a concrete plan in his head. “But there is another mission I need to see to completion, besides helping my brother,” 

He paused for a while, staring out of the cave. The group was snuggled deep inside, but if Ford stared hard enough, he could see a vague light coming from what must have been the exit of the tunnel. He was about to take a leap into the unknown. “I plan to destroy Bill Cipher,” 

The others are silent, with shocked looks on their faces. 

“It’s going to be difficult. It may take my entire lifetime,” Ford laughed bitterly. “But no matter what, I will do my best to eliminate his threat from the universe. He has gotten away with terrorizing other’s for far too long. I  _ will _ put an end to it!” 

“Praise the Axolotl!” Anik shouted happily. Ford had no idea what that meant. “Finally, someone brave enough to fight that beast!” 

“You’ll need a weapon of unimaginable strengths to do something like that,” Tre´Hauld said. “I’m not sure how you’ll get your hands on something like that, but if I learned anything from traveling the multiverse, it’s that, while they can be the biggest idiots anyone has ever seen, a human’s spirit and stubborn will is not to be underestimated,” The old guinea pig smiled. “I’m rooting for you. I hope you can find your brother and destroy the bastard that rules this terrible hell once and for all,” 

“Thank you,” Ford replied, nodding his head politely. “I suppose I should start on my journey as soon as possible,” 

“We can give you some useful equipment,” The horned alien offered. “Plus some food, and that  _ water _ stuff you human’s can’t live without,” 

“And keep the interdimensional translator,” Anik told him. “Consider it a gift. You’re going to need it throughout your journey if you are to travel through multiple places,” 

Ford took a few moments to gather up the stuff he was given, before saying goodbye to the aliens and moving towards the cave's exits. 

“May the Axolotl be with you!” Tre´Hauld bid goodbye. “I hope that you can find your brother,” 

“I will find him,” Ford said, though not loud enough for anyone else to hear him. “I’m going to find you, Stanley. Just you wait,” 

His brother sacrificed his safety and well-being for Ford without a second thought. It was high time Ford did the same. 

He left the cave, stepping into the pink and red and purple skies. It was now morning in the Nightmare Realm. 

Several wormholes could be seen from Ford’s location. He reached deep inside himself for his instincts, making a guess as to which portal would be the right one, and diving in. 

_ I’m coming, Stanley! Just wait for me, ok? _

* * *

Getting up a mountain with crutches was harder than Mabel had predicted. She and Gideon had to stop to rest multiple times, and she also had to accept his help multiple times, which was just the tiniest bit embarrassing considering climbing had always been one of Mabel’s bragging points. 

“Stupid burned legs,” She grumbles to herself as Gideon pulls her over yet  _ another _ batch of rocks that, normally, she’d be able to scale in seconds. 

“Are you sure you’re ok, Mabel?” Gideon asks her. “We don’ have to do this if you don’ feel up to it,” 

“It doesn't matter if I feel up to it or not,” Mabel grimaces. “I  _ have _ to figure out what Bill wanted with the portal, and what my grunkles had to do with it,” 

“I still don’ understand why you and your brother did all this,” Gideon tells the girl honestly. It had always confused him as to why Mabel and Dipper worked so hard on the portal, and got into so much trouble for two perfect strangers. “You don’ even  _ know _ yer Great Uncles,” Gideon refuses to say “Grunkle,” It sounded like a disease. 

“I didn’t, but Grandpa did,” Mabel explains. “He’d tell us so many stories about them, and get so sad at the thought of never seeing them again. Dipper and I had always thought of how happy it would make Shermie if we had somehow managed to find them!” Mabel smiles, feeling the warm nostalgia. She and Dipper had  _ loved _ their grandfather more than anything. He was extremely special to them, and they would’ve done anything to make him happy. 

So they did. Not like it mattered much now. 

“Then, when we stopped by here during a family road trip, and we found the cabin they’d disappeared from, and the first journal. Then Dipper just happened to run into the third one by chance,” Mabel laughs. It was pure luck that set them on their journey. Shermie’s trailer had just  _ happened _ to break down as they drove through Gravity Falls, and they just so  _ happened _ to have to stay with the Corduroys. If they hadn’t stayed with the Corduroys, Wendy wouldn’t have taken them into the woods to explore the “creepy abandoned cabin,”. “Finding Stanford and Stanley had been a fantasy throughout our childhood, but suddenly it seemed like something we could really do!” 

“You’re an odd girl, Mabel,” Gideon relents. “I can’t imagine myself ever wanting to come back here if I learned how many things were  _ wrong  _ about this place,” 

Mabel frowns. “You used to be fascinated with this place,” She laments. “You thought that weird was cool, and you thought that  _ I  _ was cool  _ because _ I was weird,” She remembered the first day the two had met, when Mabel was convinced she’d found her perfect BFF in the little boy. 

Then he went all creepy on her, but that's another story. 

“I  _ still _ think you’re cool,” Gideon complimented her. “But your the only weird thing that happened to me that hadn’t lead to disaster,” 

The two stop in front of the cave that held the incantation to summon Bill Cipher. Dipper and Mabel had long since destroyed the painting but they’d come to learn that if you ever wanted to talk to the triangle, that cave was the best place to do it. 

“I don’ like this,” Gideon squeaks, hiding behind Mabel, despite being  _ much _ taller than her. 

“How bad can it be?” Mabel laughed. 

“Didn’t you lose your hand the last time you talked to him?” 

Mabel scratched the back of her neck, looking at the six-fingered replacement she’d been given. She hesitates for a moment, then steals her features. “A hand was well worth everything we gained. Cipher is going to tell me what he has planned for this world, one way or another,” 

She marched right in, Gideon trailing after her for backup. 

“CIPHER!!” She shouts out as loud as she can, standing firmly in the center of the cave. 

The winds suddenly picked up, despite there being no wind in caves, and the world turned black and white. A disgusting yellow hue filled the room, as Bill Cipher appeared before them. 

Mabel glares at the triangle, showing no fear. Bill, on the other hand, looks frustratingly amused. 

“WELL, WELL, WELL, WELL, WELL!” He chimes. “IF IT ISN’T MY OLD PAL, SHOOTING STAR,”

* * *

When Stan finally woke up, he was relieved to see he was no longer in the desert. In fact, he wasn’t even in pain any more. He could finally stand on his legs. Somehow, his broken bones had been healed. 

The relief didn’t last long, however, as he immediately noticed he was in a prison cell. 

The cell is dirty and dark, and it smells like burnt hair and sulfur. There are a good number of creatures in the cell, and none of them are human. 

“Ok, you're in a prison cell, with a bunch of aliens,” He said to himself. Two bug-like creatures stared at him with a certain look in their eye that he was  _ way _ too familiar with. This  _ couldn’t _ be another Columbia. He barely survived the first one. 

Looking back, he honestly shouldn’t have been so shocked that Rico had turned on him. It was just a matter of time. Stan had been good; done exactly what Rico had told him for the past three years, but all it took was one slip-up, and suddenly he had become scum to a man who was already the scum of society. Or maybe he’d always been scum to him. Rico  _ had _ been using him the entire time. At least then he’d been _useful_ scum. 

Stan shook the memories off, realizing he’d been in here in less than a few seconds, and had already felt a panic attack coming on. Panic would not help anything. Panic would not help anything. 

_ It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine, everything is going to be fine, fine, fine, fine. Nothing’s going to happen! _ Stan couldn’t breath. He was in Columbia again and he couldn’t breath. 

“Calm down,” He whispers to himself, rubbing his temples, trying to chase away the migraine. “You're not in Columbia. Your miles, no  _ dimensions _ , away from all that shit. You’ll be ok,” 

The bug creatures began to approach him. 

Panic began to settle in. Stan shook the bars, screaming. “Let me out!” He cried. “Someone let me out! I can’t be in here,” 

One of the bugs grabbed him by the hair, pulling him away from the bars. 

They had several more limbs, and were much taller than he was. The one gripping his hair pulled him closer to its face, it’s beetle-like mouth clicking. “Miuq iu nnoa,” It chirped in a language Stan couldn’t understand. It was going to be like that a lot, wasn’t it? “Bhuzpfl naubh. Cuveyx nwx kaoklfe zpjm utm xcrr ljy,” 

Stan may not have known the language, but the tone was familiar enough. It was the same tone the inmates had used to address him when he was nineteen and in prison for the first time. A little boy surrounded by big men, looking for a power trip, and knowing their victim would be too weak to fight it off. 

The first time it happened, Stan had been lucky to survive. And that was with humans. Who knew what these  _ creatures _ could and  _ would _ do to him. 

“J bkgz ubke ubek g xsyzzg hiuj nvwq. Ciohg zmtn oz wvn?” 

Before he knew what was happening, he was slammed down onto the ground, as the two creatures got in closer. One of them kicked his chest, and a sickening crack and spell of pain told him his ribs had been broken again. He fought through the pain, attempting to get up, only to be pinned back down again by the bug. It’s mouth opened over his face, assaulting him with hot breath and the sight of multiple teeth, in a mouth that resembled a grinder. Stan’s hands were free, so he tried to push the thing off of him, only for it to use another pair of arms to pin him to the ground. He thrashed against the thing. He hadn’t gotten this far only to be eaten by alien bugs in some middle of nowhere planet in another dimension! 

Suddenly, a long tongue spilled out from the center of the creature's mouth and licked Stan across the face. He froze. The creature buzzed in satisfaction

Oh god, not again!

_ This isn’t happening _ . He tells himself.  _ This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening, this isn’t… _

“Please! Help me!” He shouted, praying that the other cell mates would interfere. They did nothing, most of them pretending he wasn’t there. The most he got was a humanoid creature that resembled an Axolotl shouting at the alien bugs in a foreing language, but that didn’t stop them. 

It wasn’t until the bugs began to tear at his clothes that someone  _ finally  _ intervened.

The axolotl-like creature from before whipped one of the bugs away from Stan like it was nothing with a strong flick from its tail. It sunk a powerful claw into the face of the other and slammed it’s head into the ground, crushing the thing’s skull. Green ooze that might have been blood trailed out from the thing. 

It’s friend recovered from the blow, and jumped at the alien. It caught the bug-thing by the throat, lifting it off the ground with ease. “Cfq kch icuzu gq zqmjr vvue vhooz mzbps, ad rb acg ioav ha qbq wd xuyr acgd tekszp?” 

Even in the foreign language, Stan could feel the menace in the words. The bug shook it’s head fearfully, and the axolotl set it down. It ran as far away from the creature as the space allowed. 

Stan pulled his jacket over his ripped shirt, wiping the saliva and a bit of bug blood off of his skin. He could feel his legs shaking.  _ I should be used to this by now. I shouldn’t have given it such a reaction _ . He chastises himself, standing up despite the broken ribs. 

No matter how many times it happened, it seemed that the terror he felt would never disappear. 

“T-thank you,” He stammered out at the axolotl-like creature. “I don’t know if you understand me, but–” 

“Do not worry,” The creature said in English, in a deep, masculine voice with a thick accent. “We Ax-Tel’s are born knowing every language there is to speak, your’se included. You speak English and are human, so you must be from earth,” 

“Yeah,” Stan confirmed. “Yeah, I’m from earth…” 

“May I ask how you ended up here?” He asked. 

Stan hesitated. Sure, this man just saved him, but for all Stan knew, he could be another Rico. 

Make the weak kid in prison trust you. Promise to protect him. Then demand favors from them. And you know that if you refuse, you’ll no longer be under their protection. You’ll just get it worse from everyone else. And that’s how they groom you into obedience. 

It was sick, but it wouldn’t happen again. 

“Tell me how you ended up here first,” Stan demanded. Equal footing was always the best way to go. If this man wanted Stan to trust him, Stan would have to trust this man first. 

The axolotl gave him a knowing smile, as if he suspected the hostility. Stan wasn’t sure what to make of that. “I came to this planet in search of my sister,” He explained, wandering to the front cage and placing his clawed hands on the iron bars. Was every creature of his kind- Ax-Tel’s, apparently, like that? Tall, muscular, and sporting clawed hands and powerful tails? Or was it just this one? 

“She was kidnapped by these freaks to be a woman in their brothel,” He said, gritting his teeth, a look of genuine anger on his face. “If they’ve laid a single hand on my sister, I’m going to…” He didn’t finish that sentence, but he didn’t have to. Stan already knew. Because he would do the same if anyone laid a hand on his brother. 

“I’ve been a part of ‘brothel’s’ before,” Stan relented, trying his best not to shiver from the memories. He’s had enough of that to last a lifetime. He could tell that the anger the creature felt was genuine. Nobody could fake the desire to protect their sibling. “I’ve had some of the worst experiences of my life there. But, I’m somehow still alive. If you’re sister is anything like you, she’ll make it out,” 

“She’s tougher than I am,” He brags, looking proud. “She is the most resilient woman in the whole multiverse. She could kill even the Axolotl himself, and I wouldn’t be surprised,” Stan decided to assume that the “Axolotl” was some sort of god and leave it at that. “Anyways, I was captured, and entered into these creatures  _ games _ ,” The Ax-Tel finished

“Games?” Stan asked, the fear starting to boil. When it came to horrible people, the suggestion of a “game” was never a good thing. The games were never anything but psychological torment, and they were rigged against you from the start. Whether you’d lose your sanity or your body first was up to you to decide. Most of the time, it would be both. “What kind of games?” 

“The kind where the loser will die,” The creature confesses. Stan grits his teeth.  _ Not good, not good, not good, I can’t play these games I can’t die here! _

“But, I told you why I’m here. How about you?” The man interrupted Stan’s internal panicking. 

Stan looked at the alien before him. He was tall, and well built, and had crushed the bug-people like they were nothing. He’d be a good ally, that was for sure. 

But there was a second question. Could Stan trust this man? 

He looked into the Ax-Tel’s inky black eyes. They were warm and honest. He pictured the look of rage and fear on the man’s face as he lamented his sister’s whereabouts. And the look of pride when talking about her strength. 

Someone who cared  _ that _ much about a sibling was at least somewhat decent person. That, Stan could be sure about. 

He would put a little bit of trust in this man. For now, at least. But the moment things would begin to look ugly, or overly familiar, Stan would be ready to bolt. 

No more hoping. 

“My brother built an interdimensional portal, and we ended up going through it. We got lost in some place. I think it’s called the Nightmare Realm?” The Ax-Tel visibly shutters at that statement. Stan takes that information and stores it in his head for later. “Anyways, I fell through a wormhole and got separated from him. Ended up here,” 

“Do you want to see your brother again?” The creature asked. 

“What the hell kinda question is that?” Stan sputtered. It was the one thing he would never lie about. “I’d give anything to find him,” 

The Ax-Tel smiled. “Then I can consider you my friend,” He held out a hand for Stan to shake, which he took after only a moment's hesitation. “I am Lehoi Exlotle,” He finally introduced himself. “And you are?” 

“I’m Stan,” Stan introduced. “Just Stan,” He was tired of using fake names, and he was dimensions away from anything that would recognize him. But secrets were a good weapon against strangers. Lehoi Exlotle  _ seemed  _ like a kind man, and the story he told of his sister had to be real, but it’s not a betrayal if there was never any trust in the first place. 

Stan wasn’t going to let himself be betrayed again. 

“My sister’s name is Zeena,” Lehoi told him pridefully. “If you help me free my sister from this place, then I will help you find your brother,” 

“Deal,” Stan said. He would gladly help a man reunite with his sibling, as long as he walked away alive of course. A small part of him hoped that this man would keep his side of the deal, and help him look for Stanford. Hell, a small part of Stan hoped that he finally may have found a genuine friend. After all, the Axolotl-like creature had saved him from those bug men without asking for anything in return, except for a hand in saving the life of someone dear to him. He hoped that maybe, just  _ maybe _ , good things could finally start happening to him. 

But good things never happened to Stan Pines, did they? What made him think  _ this _ would be the change? 

He swallows his hope, but put on his best showman’s smile anyways. “She sounds cool. Can’t wait to meet her,” 

“You will,” Lehoi nodded. “If we survive tomorrow’s games,” 

Stan laughed awkwardly. “Yeah, about that…” 

“Do not worry,” Lehoi placed a comforting hand on Stan’s shoulder. “Stick with me. I will not let you die,” 

It sounds like a genuine promise with barely any strings attached. But Stan knows better. 

_ I know better. _

* * *

“IT’S BEEN QUITE A WHILE, AIN’T THAT RIGHT,  _ RIGHTY _ ,” 

Bill Cipher circles around Mabel, tossing at her hair and flicking her nose. “LOOK HOW MUCH YOU’VE GROWN! AND IS THAT A  _ PLAIN _ SWEATER? OH MY GOSH! YOU’VE BECOME BORING!” 

Mabel rolls her eyes. “I’m not here for small talk, Cipher,” 

Bill ignores her. “AND IS THAT LIL’ GIDEON!?” The boy in question let out a yelp and tried hiding behind Mabel again, not daring to make eye contact with the demon who’d ruled his childhood. “MAN, AND I THOUGHT MABEL HERE GREW! YOUR STILL PLENTY FAT THOUGH,” 

Gideon pinched one of his wrist-rolls self-consciously. 

“Listen to me, damnit!” Mabel snapped. “I want to know what the hell you did to Stan’s family!” 

A good of cover as any for her true question, but that wasn’t all. She needed to know if it was Cipher who did it. She needed to know if it was her fault. 

“OH, STAN PINES FAMILY!” Bill chuckled. “THAT’S A  _ DELIGHTFUL  _ STORY. AFTER YOU PULLED THAT STUNT WITH THE HAND,  _ RIGHTY _ , I GOTTA SAY I HAD A  _ LOT _ OF PENT UP ANGER INSIDE. AND WHAT BETTER WAY TO RELEASE ANGER THAN TO DESTROY THE LIVES OF THE INNOCENT!” 

“So it  _ was _ you,” Mabel growls. “You killed my great uncle's family because you were mad that  _ I _ tricked you!” 

“DING DING DING!” He chimed happily. “GIVE THE GIRL A GOLD METAL, SHE FIGURED IT OUT!” 

Mabel can feel Gideon’s finger’s clutching her sweater like a lifeline as the teen whimpers. She can feel her own growing anger, and guilt. But she isn’t done yet. She came here to learn what Bill wanted. She’d get her information if it was the last thing she did. 

“What was the  _ point _ , then?!” She snaps. “Pure pettiness?! You killed a man’s family for the sake of being petty!?” 

“OH, I DIDN’T  _ JUST _ KILL HIS FAMILY,” Bill seems insulted that she’d think he’d stop there. “I KILLED EVERY SINGLE BEING ON THE PLANET HE’D MADE HIS HOME. HIS NEIGHBORS, HIS FRIENDS, ALL OF THEM DEAD! A COMPLETE GENOCIDE OF THE ENTIRE AX-TEL RACE!” 

Bill’s face lit up in glee as Mabel’s mask crumbles into a look of horror. “WEREN’T EXPECTING THAT, WHERE YOU, SHOOTING STAR?” He mocks. “BUT DON’T WORRY; I MADE SURE TO GIVE  _ STAN’S _ FAMILY SOME SPECIAL TREATMENT. FIRST I RIPPED OUT HIS BROTHER-IN-LAW’S SPINE. THEN I BURNED HIS DAUGHTER-IN-LAW ALIVE, BOTH RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIM, TOO” Images of his horrible acts appeared in his eye, and it took Mabel all her strength not to let her glare waver. Tears formed in her eyes as she watched pink-skinned creatures that resembled Axolotl’s be killed in various ways. “THEN I MADE HIM CHOOSE BETWEEN SAVING HIS WIFE AND SAVING HIS CHILDREN, BUT I KILLED BOTH IN THE END. MELTED HER SKIN RIGHT OFF. I MADE SURE HE SAW IT. I WOULDN’T LET HIM LOOK AWAY OR CLOSE HIS EYES. HE  _ WATCHED _ THEM AS THEY DIED.  _ SLOWLY _ ,” the demon bragged.

“You’re horrible!” Mabel shouts at him. He only seems to look more gleeful. 

“TELL ME SOMETHING I DON’T KNOW, KID!” Bill cackles furiously. “OH, I ALSO MADE HIM WATCH ME KILL HIS GRANDCHILDREN, DID I MENTION THAT?”

Mabel can’t find it in her to stand anymore, and she sinks to her knees. She can barely hear Gideon call out her name in concern. Hatred burns through her guts. This  _ demon _ took everything from a good man and had the audacity to brag about it as if telling a friend that he fixed a lightbulb by himself. 

But she hasn’t gotten what she wanted yet. 

“So, you kill his whole family in front of him, destroy his planet, and then torture him?” She growls darkly. She knows Bill had tortured him. He signed his own name in the wounds. She stands back up, her legs shaking. She has to stay strong. “Why would  _ anyone _ do that? What was the  _ point!? _ ” 

“HEY, FISH STICKS MADE A GOOD HOSTAGE,” Bill shrugs. “YOU THREATEN TO KILL HIS BROTHER AND FORDSEY WILL GIVE YA JUST ABOUT ANYTHING! HE DIDN’T EVEN KNOW WHAT HE WAS BUILDING FOR ME, HE JUST DID IT ANYWAYS,”

So Bill used Stan as a hostage to force Ford to build him something. That was good. That was one piece of the puzzle. 

“What could’ve Ford have  _ possibly _ given you that would warrant  _ that!?”  _ She shouted. He had carved his name into Stan’s belly. Played a game of tic-tac-toe on his knee using a knife. Triangles and smiles had been cut into Stan’s body like doodles, as well as many other splits and gashes. Signs of electrocution, traces of magic. Intense psychological damage, according to the brain scans. She didn’t even  _ want  _ to know what Bill had put him through. “What could he possibly have given you that  _ we  _ didn’t already have!?” 

“LOTS OF THINGS, SHOOTING STAR,” Bill checks his nails as if it didn’t matter. “YOU REALLY THINK YOU CAN SIMPLY OPEN A PORTAL OF THAT MAKE WITHOUT CONSEQUENCES?” He laughed. “RIGHTY, THANKS TO YOU AND YOUR BROTHER’S STUPIDITY, THERE’S NOW A RIP IN THE UNIVERSE. YOU CAN TRY AND FIX IT  _ ALL  _ YOU WANT. BUT IT WON'T MATTER,” 

“Why? You don’t think we can?” Mabel challenges. 

“IT DOESN’T MATTER IF YOU CAN OR CANNOT. ONCE I FINISH FORD’S LITTLE INVENTION, YOUR WORLD’S GONNA LEARN HOW TO PARTY!” 

Despite the horrifying things Bill had told and shown her, Mabel smiles through her tears. “So that’s your plan. Use Ford to build you something, and use that  _ something _ to get that tear in the universe you keep going on about!” 

“Mabel,” Gideon warned. 

It occurred to her that maybe it was a bad idea to let Bill know her conclusion. 

Then, Bill did something terrifying. He gazed at her as if he was  _ proud _ . “YOU’VE BEEN TRYING TO GET THAT INFORMATION OUT OF ME THE WHOLE TIME. CLEVER GIRL. REMINDS ME OF  _ ME _ WHEN I WAS YOUR AGE,” 

Mabel cringes internally. She hates the thought of being compared to the demon. She glares at him, gritting her teeth. “You son of a—“ 

“LUCKY FOR YOU, YOU CAN'T DO MUCH WITH THIS INFORMATION. I’M GONNA DESTROY THE WORLD NO MATTER WHAT YOU TRY TO DO,” He chuckles. “AND LET ME TELL YOU, WHEN MY APOCALYPSE STARTS,” He leans in closer to Mabel, putting a hand on her shoulder. “YOU'RE GONNA MAKE ME A PERFECT BACK SCRATCHER,” 

“Don’t touch her!” Gideon snaps, gaining a bout of courage, only for it to die the moment Bill makes eye contact with him.

“YOU KNOW, I WAS GONNA GIVE THAT HONOR TO FORDSEY,” Bill laughs, continuing his conversation with Mabel as if Gideon wasn’t even there. “SINCE HE’S TRIED SO HARD AT DEFEATING ME AND ALL, BUT  _ YOU _ , SHOOTING STAR, HAVE MANAGED TO BOTH IMPRESS ME AND  **_PISS ME OFF_ ** _ ,”  _ His eye turns blood red for a second, and Mabel flinches. 

“Not happening, Bill!” Mabel snaps. “My brother is at our cabin right now, and he’ll find that tear and fix it! We’ll figure out a way to stop you, because we’re  _ Pines _ !” 

Bill cackles, looking amused. “AREN'T YOU PRECIOUS,” He mocks, patting her head. “IF YOU REALLY THINK THAT YOU AND PINE TREE ARE ENOUGH TO STOP MY PLANS, THAN GIVE IT YOUR BEST SHOT. YOU'RE A RIOT TO WATCH, MABLE. I’M LOOKING FORWARDS TO SEEING YOU  _ TRY  _ TO STOP ME,” 

And with that, Bill disappears. 

Mabel falls to her knees again, hyperventilating. 

“Mabel!” Gideon is at her side, patting her back in attempts to calm her down. “You alright?” 

“That bastard thinks he can mess with my family,” she screams out, her body trembling with fury and anger. “He thinks he can take over  _ my _ world. I’ll show him. Dipper and I will show him! We’ll all show him,” 

And with that declaration of war, Mabel grabs her crutches, and begins to leave the cave, with some help from Gideon. 

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this,” she tells him. “But I’m glad I wasn’t here alone,” 

She stops once she leaves the cave, and takes out her phone, calling Dipper immediately. 

“Did you get the information?” Dipper ask the moment he picks up. 

“He made Ford build something. There’s a tear in reality in our basement—“ 

“I know,” Dipper interrupted. “I’m already there. I called McGucket. He should be here with something to contain it soon,” 

“Good, that should help for now,” Mabel sighs in relief. At least they’d have a bit of time to prepare for the apocalypse before it actually happened. “But it won’t be forever. Bill said the thing he made Ford build would help him get his hands on the crack. Once he’s finished building it, it’s all over for our world!”

“Not if we have anything to say about it,” Dipper replies, confidence in his voice. But there’s a slight shake that only Mabel can pick up on. He was scared, just as she was. 

“Mabel, are you ok?” 

Mabel sighs, shaking her head, before remembering she was on the phone. “No, I’m not. It was horrible. Bill  _ did _ kill Grunkle Stan’s family. And he did it because of  _ me! _ ” 

“It’s not your fault,” Both Dipper and Gideon insist at the same time. Gideon didn’t even know that much about Mabel and Bill’s interactions six years ago; just that Bill had been tricked and Mabel had lost a hand. 

“Bill’s insane!” Gideon continues. “Any horrible thing he does is on  _ him _ , not you!” 

“For once, I agree with Gideon,” Dipper chimes from the other side of the phone. “It’s not your fault, it’s  _ Bills _ ,” 

Mabel didn’t believe either of them, but that wasn’t important right now. “I’m gonna go back to the cabin,” she says. “I’ll tell you everything when I get there,” 

“Sure thing,” Dipper replies. “Get here as soon as possible. We need to figure out what to do next,” 

“Okay,” She says. “Bye,” 

Before she can hang up, she hears Dipper calling out to her. “Mabel, wait!!” 

“What?”

“I love you,” 

“I love you, too, bro-bro,” 

“Don’t worry,” He says, even though he sounded on the verge of panic. “We’ll kick Bill Ciphers ass together, I swear it! Mystery Twins?” 

“Mystery Twins,” Mabel repeats their mantra back, before hanging up the phone and turning to Gideon. “Let’s get going!” 

The two of them began to make their way down the mountain. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bill is a dick, in case you didn't already know. 
> 
> I have a principle that there is no such thing as bad children, only bad circumstances. I took that idea and applied it to the child psychopath that is Gideon Gleeful, and teen Gideon was born; a ball of anxiety that fears Bill above all else and has only one friend. 
> 
> Gotta say, writing his little shit personality in Star Falls is fun, but he's older in this story, and I assume that he should become a better person with age. 
> 
> We have also introduced the first known member of the Exlotle family; Stan's brother-in-law, Lehoi. I imagine Lehoi's voice to sound like T'Challa's from the Marvel Movies, except maybe an octave or two deeper. 
> 
> I do gotta say, I am sorry for doing this to Stan's family. I wasn't purposely being malicious, I promis. I've been wanting to give Stan a wife, kids, and grandkids in a fic for a while. But, I also needed to get rid of them for plot convinience, so you know, tragic backstory and all. 
> 
> I'm a horrible person, aren't I? 
> 
> As for the foreign languages, I used several Vigenere Ciphers. The codes changed depending on the language. Common is the encryption for Galactic Common. Buggi for the bug creatures, Mushi for the mush men, and every other cipher I kinda forgot, but uh... Things happen?
> 
> Besides that little bump in the road, I'm pretty proud of this chapter. It's long AF, but you people like long chapters, right?


	4. Dumping Grounds / Dipper and Mabel's Guide to Sealing Rifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the past, Stan's life is left in the hands of Lehoi Exlotle when his wound becomes infected, while Ford enters a realm known as the "Dumping Grounds", where he hopes to gain a lead on where to find his brother. In the present, Stan wakes up in an earth hospital where he and Ford are safe, while Mabel and Dipper team up with Fiddleford McGucket to seal the rift, hopefully buying themselves time before the end of the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took longer to write than I first predicted. Sorry bout that. 
> 
> Enjoy!

_“This isn’t your fault, baby. I love you,”_

His wife’s last words ring in his head; a source of comfort whenever _It_ forces him to watch one of _It’s_ sick plays. He tried not to let her words be tainted. He really did. But it was kind of hard to remember his _real_ family didn’t blame him for their deaths, wouldn’t ever _have_ blamed him, when _it’s_ twisted interpretations of them kept angrily demanding to know why he let them die. 

_“I didn’t! I tried my best, I promise!”_

_“You should’ve tried harder!”_

_“I couldn’t do anything!”_

_“Yes you could! You could’ve if you were smarter. Braver! But you’ve always been nothing but a screw-up, huh? A useless, talentless, retard. Completely worthless, the scum of society,”_

_“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to! I promise, I’m sorry!”_

_“Sorry won’t bring us back to life, you piece of shit! I regret ever loving a parasite like you,”_

The memories are hard to shake off. They swirl around in his head whenever he closes his eyes. But he can’t open them either. A heavy force fights to keep his eyelids closed. 

He saw his brother, running through the weightless void where they’d been imprisoned. 

He saw a dark room, flashing with the occasional blue light. It looked familiar. There were so many voices; none of them he recognized. 

Then there was white. And there was his son. 

Stanford Exlotle-Pines. His little Junior. Standing right within his reach, looking more alive than ever. He couldn’t remember the last time his baby had looked so alive. 

He had reached for him, only for Junior to back away. 

He blamed him! He blamed him for everything. For his death. For the death of his wife, his mother, his sisters, his uncle, and his children. He blamed Stanley for it. 

_Please! I’m sorry!_

_I did my best!_

_Don’t leave me! Don’t leave me again! I can’t lose you!_

And everything went black again.

* * *

Stanley finally opens his eyes with a newfound clarity. He looks around the best he can. He can feel his body. It feels numb. There’s a familiar sense to the numb. An IV cord is pierced in his arm. He’s being drugged. 

It looked like he was in a hospital. What was _It_ up to this time?

Stan slowly tries to sit himself up, but to no avail. His body isn’t feeling it. There’s a remote that controls the bed recline. That would do. 

The moment he makes noise he can hear a familiar voice calling his name. _Ford_. 

The last thing he remembers of his brother was Ford assuring him that they were about to get out. Another rescue attempt on his part. _It_ wasn’t going to be pleased. 

“Stan, you’re awake!” Ford cheers. He’s sitting in a hospital bed next to Stan's own, wearing a baby-blue hospital gown, bandages, and a cast around his elevated leg. His eyes aren't yellow slits. They’re the normal warm and faded brown. That barely meant a thing when it came to _It’s_ games. 

He laughed bitterly. “Alright, you one-eyed creep. What’s your angle _this_ time?” His voice is weak, but he’s not surprised. He’s spent a lot of time screaming over the… how long had it been? Months? Years? He hadn’t been counting. Couldn’t find it in himself to count. Ford was the one who counted. 

“Stanley, this isn’t Bill,” The Ford in the bed insists. Stan doesn’t believe it for a second. 

There were no hospitals in the nightmare realm. Whenever _It_ allowed Ford to patch him up, it was always in dirty prison cells, with unwashed fabrics. Never proper bandages. He can smell the hospital grade gauze wrapped around his body. They were never given such a luxury in the nightmare realm. 

Either Ford _had_ somehow managed to pull off that escape attempt, or _It_ was up to something again. 

“What game are we playing this time, you freak of nature?”

“Stanley,” 

“Are you gonna make me think everything’s ok, only to have my own brother start torturing me again?” He laughs bitterly. “Cause I ain’t fallin’ for it this time,” 

“Stan, this is real, I promise,” Ford slowly moves his way out of bed, using his IV drip for a balance. There’s some difficulty as Ford has to lift his cast-covered leg out of it’s elevation wrap, which seems like such a Ford thing to do, but Stan could never be sure, not when it came to _It._

“My brother’s a good person! He’d never do something like that!,” Stan tries to push himself farther away from this Ford, preparing for the warm eyes to go cold and for this doppelgänger to pull out a knife. _That’s all it is. Not the real Ford, not the real Ford, never the real Ford, the real Ford would never…_ “He wouldn’t torture anyone,” Stan insist, as the thing wearing his brother’s face slowly gets closer, struggling with it’s own apparent “injuries”. “Not even if they deserved it,” 

_“How could you let us die, Father? My children! Your_ grandchildren _! You let them parish!”_

“Stanley...” Ford repeats his name, a sadness running through his voice. Stan looks away. He can’t look at his brother; not when his brother looks so kind and loving. _It_ would reveal itself any moment now, and having to watch his brother's expression twist in hatred would break his heart. 

Not like there’s much left to break anyways. 

“Stan, I promise you, this is real!” Ford insists. His voice cracked. A telltale sign that the real Ford would begin crying. And Stan wants to believe his brother; he really does. But that would be too good to be true. 

“Stan, touch my hand,” His brother commands. “Touch my hand and _tell_ me this isn’t real,” 

Stan obeys, placing his palm into Fords. He can feel the crevices and the calluses. Every bump from every scar. The hands are cold, like always. Stan traces his brother’s wrinkled hand with his finger, counting the five fingers and one thumb, and finally looks his brother in the eyes. 

This is real. _It_ can’t fake these small, intimate details, no matter how hard it tries. 

He tears up. “Holy moses, your _real!”_ He sobs, gripping onto his brother’s hand like a lifeline. 

Ford climbs into the bed and lays down next to him, holding Stanley close. Stan grips the fabric of his brother’s hospital gown with his one good arm (the other is in a cast), and lets his brother comfort him. These were the small moments; the reprieves. The little moments when Ford would come back from wherever _It_ sent him, giving _It_ whatever he was supposed to collect. Then _It_ would let Ford near his brother, where he would do his best to clean and bandage the wounds. Then, they’d spend whatever leftover time that they had holding each other while they cried, because there wasn’t much else they could do. It was small, but it was something. 

Stanford was all he had left. So Stan would love and cherish him, as he always had, and always would. He would make sure that if or when _It_ decided to take Ford away from him, Ford would go out knowing that his brother loved him, and didn’t blame him for a single thing. 

“Stanley, guess what?” Ford talks to him, his voice quiet and soothing. “We did it Stan. We got out of the nightmare realm. A portal had opened up to _our world_ Stanley. Earth! Our original Earth. The one we were born in! Bill won’t be able to follow us here for a _long_ time. We’re safe, for now,” 

It suddenly feels as if time itself has stopped, and the only thing in the world that is moving is the rise and fall of his brother's chest. _Safe_ . They were _safe_ ~~for now~~. They had somehow, against all odds, ended up in the one place Bill couldn’t follow them into. Their own Earth. 

They made it. They survived. 

“H-how!?” Stan finally gasps. It’s too good. It’s too good to be true. But if Ford is real, — and Stan knows for sure that Ford is real — and they're not both dead, which he’s a little less sure of, then that means that somehow, despite everything being against them, Ford managed to escape the Nightmare Realm with him. 

That also meant that, despite all odds, someone had either turned on that portal in the basement that they had left many years ago, or someone had built their own. But then who?

“These two childre–, er, _young adults_ , somehow got the portal I built in the basement operational,” Ford almost laughs. “I don’t know how _anyone_ could’ve pulled it off, especially two nineteen-year-olds,” 

“Hey,” Stan jokes, burying his head in his brother’s chest. The hospital lights are very bright. It’s bothering him. The hospital gown his brother wears smells like laundry detergent, though Ford himself smells like a corpse. Stan can only guess that he doesn’t smell much better. “It’s a big universe. There’s bound to be _someone_ out there who can match your genius,” 

He could feel his brothers smile as Ford rested his head atop of Stans own. “You're in a good mood it seems,” Ford laughs. 

“How can I not be?” Stan hums, “You’re real,” 

He can feel his brother’s grip on him tighten. He was never letting go. A sense of peace flows into his body. _We’re safe! We’re safe! Holy shit, I can’t believe it, we’re safe!_

Stanley sobs into his brother’s shirt. “I can’t believe it! This is all real. We really did it. We’re really safe,” 

His hair feels wet. Ford is crying too, but how can he not? The relief washes in and out in waves, like a beach, cleaning the sand of the broken glass and bottle caps, so that the small feet that run along it won’t get sliced. 

“There is a small matter, however,” Ford brings up. “The two children who opened the portal; we do not know them, nor do we know their motives. Even more suspicious, they claim to be Sherman’s grandchildren,” 

_Shermie_. His beloved big brother. That’s right. They’re on earth. They can see their brother again. 

“Holy shit!” Stan gasps happily. “Sherm had grandkids?” 

“They could be lying,” Ford mentions. 

“Don’t worry, I know they could,” Stan assures his brother. “But ain’t it a nice thought? To have been rescued by family?” 

“They do _look_ like Pines,” Ford laughs. “They both have Sherman’s nose. And the boy, at least, is practically the _spitting image_ of Junior!” 

There’s an ache at the mention of his son. But there’s also hope. He can barely remember his son’s smile. His head is full of the contortions of pain and betrayal and disgust. Sadistic looks from _It’s_ plays. Bitter memories from the deaths themselves. But maybe, by seeing Junior’s apparent doppelgänger, maybe he can pull up the happier moments from the back of his head. Maybe it can clean the images, and he could remember his family as they should be; happy. Full of life and full of love. 

He’d give anything to once again hold those untainted memories. 

* * *

A loud ringing vibrated through the prison, waking Stan up from his restless sleep. He didn’t know if that was a relief or not; nightmares were never fun, but the real environment wasn’t much better. 

His shoulder was in pain. He felt some sort of liquid dripping down his back. Most likely either blood, puss, or some of that gross liquid stuff that isn’t quite puss or blood but definitely isn’t normal liquid either. His skin felt clammy and cold, but his head was on fire. 

Fever. Infection. Of course. 

“Stan,” A deep voice called out to him, and he felt a strangely smooth hand on his shoulder. It felt like the fish parts of sushi were touching him, except not as wet. It was hard to explain. 

“Stan, you need to get up,” The voice tried again. 

“Gimme a minute,” He grumbled, pushing through the stifling fog in his head. This wasn’t the first time he’s had to walk a fever off. 

He remembered plucking the bullet out of his shoulder with a pair of pliers he shoplifted from a craft store. The pliers were not sterile, and neither was his car, nor his hands, or the needle and thread he used to stitch the wound shut. The wound was closed, but it was infected. 

He remembered driving away from Angelo’s thugs, desperately trying not to pass out. He had to focus through the haze, or he’d be caught, and killed. He remembered one thought going through his head. _I can’t die!_

He couldn’t die. He wasn’t supposed to die like that. He and Ford were supposed to grow old together, then die of duel heart attacks at the age of a hundred and three. If he was to die by a bullet, it was supposed to be taking one for his brother as they fought pirates on the seas. 

He was supposed to be by Stanford’s side. He was supposed to be with Ford. 

“Stan,” The voice came again. “If you do not get up right now, you will be killed. I’m not sure what’s wrong with you, but—” 

“It’s just a fever, Lehoi, don’t get your panties in a twist,” Stan grumbled, finally sitting up, and pushing the Ax-Tel’s hand off of his shoulder. He wondered, if Lehoi were to turn on him right now, if he’d be able to fight the giant creature off, or at least be able to run away. 

_He’s not gonna kill you now. He needs you to help find his sister,_ Stan reminds himself. 

“A _fever_!” Lehoi shouts with an uncharacteristic amount of panic. “Stan, do you know what that means!?” 

“Yeah, a fever is when—” Stan growled out, but was interrupted by Lehoi’s continued panic. 

“We have to get you to a doctor right away! Before your skin dries out!” He fretted. “Stay here, I’ll get water… Oh, but I can’t leave you here, you'll be killed if you’re still in your cell by the time the second bell rings! But if I don’t get you water, you’ll bake into a shriveled _ponrp-rxbwzn,_ and then you’ll be lost!” 

“Jeez, calm down,” Stan laughed, slightly amused ~~and a tad bit flattered that someone was actually _worried_ about his life for once~~. “I’m not sure what a fever means to your species, but us humans can survive these things easily. All I need is hydration, and a little bit of rest,” 

“Oh, but today is game day!” Lehoi stated, putting his fingers to his mouth and chewing on his claws. It was weird to see this huge man so nervous. “You won’t be getting rest, you’ll be fighting for your life! What could’ve caused the fever anyways? You’re not in any—” 

“It’s this thing,” Stan shrugged off his coat, and unwrapped the makeshift bandage Ford had given him only a day or two ago, trying to ignore how cold it was, or the sweat all over his body. Wait, it was freezing? Why was he sweating? 

Lehoi stared at his burn with wide eyes. “That mark. That is the mark that demon’s often give their mortal slaves. And it’s fresh,” 

_Great, I’ve got a demon slave mark burned into my back, how fucking wonderful_. Stan thinks bitterly. And Ford had just so casually welded the mark into the side of a console where it could grow red-hot and potentially instantly burn anyone who was so unfortunate enough to so much as touch it. 

Jeez, his brother had to go and get into a fucking mess, didn’t he? Stan leaves him alone for a few years, and—

_Who’s fault was that?_

His headache was growing worse. It was too damned cold, and he was too damned sweaty. 

“I’m sorry. You said you ended up in the Nightmare Realm,” Lehoi said sadly. “Whichever vile creature did this to you must’ve had horrible intentions,” 

“Uh, yeah, something like that,” Stan mutters awkwardly. He doesn’t want to say it to his brother who’d done that. The memory seemed surreal at this point. The white noise of TV static played along with it, though that may have just been the fever. And Ford hadn’t even bent down to help him; he just clutched his journal and backed away. It was an accident. Ford hadn’t been in a proper state of mind. His brother cared about him. Ford had apologized. That had to mean something, right?

_I bet he’s not even looking for you. I bet he thought “good riddance” the moment you fell through that wormhole._

“Can it, you stupid think hole,” Stan mumbled to his brain. 

“What was that?” Lehoi asked. 

“Nothing,” 

The Ax-Tel turned his focus to the burn. “The moment I get my hands on better equipment, I’ll help to fix the wound. I don’t think I’ll be able to help you with your fever though,” 

Stan frowned. Lehoi was being nice to him. Nearly too nice. Nobody was nice to him, save for maybe a few children or nurses who pitied him when he was on the streets. Definitely not normal strangers. 

“Why are you helping me?” He demands from Lehoi. 

“A human would not survive here on their own,” Lehoi began. 

“Well, I don’t need your pity,” Stan growls darkly. 

“It isn’t pity,” Lehoi stated. “I know for a fact that humans are smaller and not as physically strong as many of the creatures here. The odds are against your kind. You're a good man, Stan. It’d go against everything I stand for if I were to leave a good man to die,” 

Stan almost laughed, but caught himself. If he were to laugh, surely it would’ve been a dark, hollow sound. “What the fucking hell makes you think I’m a good man,” 

“You remind me of my sister,” Lehoi said simply. “And anyone like her is unquestionably good,” 

Stan allowed himself to smile. It was a wishful thought; the concept that someone was helping him just for kindness sakes, and the concept that someone thought he was _good_ , was a warm little fantasy, and a small part of him wanted to hope that this was genuine, and that Lehoi really did want to be his friend, and wasn’t after anything else. 

_Don’t be stupid, Stan._ He growled at himself. _Don’t let another person screw you over_. 

“Come, the next bell will ring soon, and we need to be out of this cell,” Lehoi commanded, grabbing Stan by the arm to help him up. 

“Get off, I can walk by myself,” He growled, before standing up. 

The room spun for a good ten seconds, and before he was aware of what was happening, Lehoi had to grab him to stop him from falling. 

“Would you like some help, now, _Mister Stubborn_ ,” Lehoi teased, glancing down at the much shorter man with a smug look that Stan wished he could punch right off. 

“Fine, get me out of this damned cell,” He grumbled, refusing to give the Ax-Tel the satisfaction of gratitude. 

“I know where we can get some fresh bandages, but we’ll have to skip breakfast,” Lehoi offered, walking Stan out of their jail cell, and off in the direction where most of the other aliens had gone. Just in time for the second bell to ring, and for the jail doors to close, and the cell rooms to fill up with dangerous-looking yellow electricity. 

“Nothing I haven’t done before,” Stan muttered, choosing to abandon his dignity and lean into the perfect stranger who decided to help him. It was freezing and boiling at the same time, and his throat felt dry. His head hurt badly. The being next to him was solid and comforting, but it was too tall to be Ford. But who else would it be? Ford was the only person who cared for him anymore. Did Ford care for him? Why was that a question? Why did he think he’d done anything to earn his brother’s love? 

“Hey Stanford,” He muttered, wondering why he could barely see. It was small and blurry and everything was in double. “Where are we?” 

A deep, panicking voice was heard, but it sounded miles away. Something was picking him up. He felt heavy and light at the same time. He wanted to fall asleep. Something told him he shouldn’t, but something else, something stronger, demanded otherwise. 

* * *

Dipper stares into the swirling vortex of color. The only thing sitting between him, and a rip in the universe, was a strange snow-globe like contraption made by Fiddleford McGucket. 

“And you're positive that _this_ is somehow gonna hold it,” Dipper asks him. He doesn’t mean to sound so incredulous, but it’s frankly unbelievable. 

“‘Course it gonna hold ‘em!” Fiddleford chimed confidently. The fact that he was trying to pull his stuck beard out of a crevice was not helping his case. “That thing-a-ma-jigger I made could hold a collapsing star and a black hole at the same time, or I ain’t Ol’Man McGucket!” 

Dipper rolls his eyes, though smiles. The old man was, admittedly, kind of enduring, in a way. He was eccentric, and definitely what one could describe as a mad genius. It was a far cry from the somewhat crazy old man he’d been when Dipper and Mabel had first met him; who’d been a danger to both himself and others, what with his crazy schemes that held the energy of a Scooby Doo villain. Though, once Dipper and Mabel had solved their, um… _problem_ with the Society of the Blind Eye, and the old man’s mind began to recover, he’d become a great ally to them. 

“So… How’s Stanford doin’ anyways?” McGucket asks. 

“He’s suspicious of us,” Dipper tells him. “I mean, if someone came up to me, claimed to be their brother’s grandchildren, and said that they operated a fucking doomsday device for no other reason than to find a pair of long lost strangers, I’d be suspicious of me too,” It sounds absolutely crazy now that he says it out loud, but its _somehow_ exactly what happened. 

Fiddleford lets out a wild laugh. “Ya sound’ like an absolute nutcase when ya say it like that!” He finally managed to pull his beard out from where it was stuck. “Not like I’m one to talk, but—” 

“Hey, we love you _because_ you're a nutcase,” Chimes another voice. 

Mabel enters the room, balancing on her crutches. Her eyes are puffy and bloodshot. She’s been crying. But she smiles the moment she lays eyes on her friends. 

“Mabel!” Dipper nearly drops the snow globe as he runs to hug her, but he quickly catches it, puts it on the desk, then runs to his sister and wraps his arms around her. “Are you ok? Did Bill hurt you?” 

“You’d been talkin’ to Bill?” Fiddleford asks accusingly. “Missy, ya know I love ya, but that was a stupid idea,” 

“We didn’t have a better one at the time,” Dipper quickly defends her. But, he did agree it was incredibly dangerous. Either way, there were more pressing matters. “Mabel, did he hurt you?” 

“No, no, I’m fine,” She shakes her brother off, and approaches the desk. “So that’s the rip, huh?” It’s smaller than she would’ve expected it to be, but still gives her a haunting feeling when she looks at it. 

“We _really_ should’ve prepared better for this,” Dipper groans. 

They were in over their heads. They made a rip in the universe, and Bill apparently had a device that would let him get his hands on it no matter what they did to seal it. If they _could_ seal it. 

“I’ve got no idea what to do,” Dipper laughs. “We’re about to face an apocalypse and I have no idea what to do,” 

“Well, we could always ask Stanford,” Fidds suggest. “He _always_ knew what to do, well, up until he didn’t,” He laughs a little at the end of that. “How’d that yeller freak manage to get an invention that can procure a rift anyhow?” 

“He forced our Grunkle Ford to build it,” Mabel spits out. “Using his brother as a hostage,” 

Dipper can feel his stomach lurching. Stan has so many open wounds that his body appears to be more exposed flesh than actual skin. It’s absolutely horrifying. But not surprising for Bill. 

“And what about Stan's family?” Dipper asks. “He didn’t _show_ you anything, did he?” 

Mabel shrinks into herself, and that’s all Dipper needs. 

“Aw, Mabel,” He sighs, throwing an arm around her and tugging her close. “You didn’t have to do this,” 

“It’s ok. We got our information,” Mabel hums. “It was worth it,” 

Dipper doesn’t argue with her, but still feels sick. 

“Wait, what happened to Stanley’s family?” McGucket asks. “Did he have kids or somethin’?”

Mabel closes her eyes, the images of Bill killing the three young adults that were Stan’s kids coming back to haunt her with a vengeance. He was very creative with his ways of murder. 

“Three kids,” Mabel says. “Three kids, and the oldest had kids too,” 

“Stan had grandkids?” Dipper asks tentatively. “How many?” 

“Two I think?” Mabel can’t quite remember. “They were really young,” 

“They ain’t—” Fiddleford hesitates. “They ain’t dead, are they?” 

The kid’s silence confirms it. 

“It was that damned triangle guy, wasn’ it?” He spits. “Takin’ away Stanford niblings, torturing his brother,” 

“Now he’s gonna cause the end of the world,” Mabel growls, glaring at the rift, as if she could scare it into submission. 

“We can stop him,” Dipper claims, resolute. He’s not sure how much he believes his own words, but he can't stand his sister looking down anymore. “Ford built whatever the thing was. He should be able to figure out exactly what it is, what it will do, and how to counter it,” 

“Anything he can’t figure out I can,” Fiddleford states. “Once I know which thingamajiggers he’s been handling, I should be able to put together a full schematic of what he was makin’,” 

“That’s a plan then,” Dipper confirms. “We can do this. We rebuilt this portal with nothing but our bare hands and the help of everyone in the Falls, and we’ll defeat Bill the same way,” 

“You make it sound so easy,” Mabel laughs. “But I’m in. Let’s go talk to our grunkles, and then we can rip that fucker a new one!” 

Dipper rolls his eyes playfully at his sister. “‘Grunkle’ is never gonna catch on, Mabes,” 

“You underestimate my power Dipper!” She declares. “It will catch on and it will spread! Like a disease!” 

* * *

“ _Ok, either this pill is going to make everything better, or it will blow him up like a balloon_ ,” Lehoi mumbled to himself in his home language. 

His sister had always teased him about getting attached to others too easily. When he was a little under 192 Moon Cycles, he had “befriended” a delivery man, and then had later cried when the man never responded to his pen pal letter. But not even getting stuck in one of the most life-threatening situations he’d ever been placed in had deterred him from his quick attachment. 

He tried his best not to make friends. His first priority was his sister, after all. If he got swept up in everyone else (other’s he couldn’t save from this rotten place), then Zeena could be lost to him. 

But those Buggi had intended to violate the human in a sadistic process that would’ve ended his life. It would’ve been a horrible way to go; torn from the inside, and burned by the Buggi’s acidic features. There was no way a human would have fought off a Buggi’s advancements. That was entirely why those bigger creatures had decided to pick on the physically weaker one

It was a cruel thing to do to anyone. But Lehoi had tried to ignore them. His sister’s life was on the line. An ally would be a detriment; watching his own back during the Games was already hard enough, but looking out for someone else; a human especially… 

Lehoi had tried to ignore it. But he couldn’t. And he couldn’t resist promising the human he’d protect him. Because he had already gotten attached and desired a friendship from the man after two seconds of talking to him. 

God, he hadn’t changed a bit, hadn’t he? 

And now, here he was, skipping the only meal he’d get before the games started, risking everything by sneaking into the medical bay to steal supplies, and trying to help a fevered human survive. A human he’d only met yesterday, no less. 

His father _had_ always said he had a small brain, but a big heart. 

Lehoi pulled off Stan's jacket, and lifted his shirt to see his back. The brand mark wasn’t the only scar this human had; his back could’ve been a horrifying tapestry. Skin was torn on the shoulders from what looked disgustingly like whipping. There were copious amounts of small holes, random burns, and bad stitch-jobs. Someone had carved words into his skin; twice. There was a second brand on the right hip; an R and an M. Lehoi didn’t know of any demon or monster who used those letters in their markings, but he hated them already. And those were just the scars on Stan’s back. 

Obviously the human had been through a lot. It was obvious why Stan didn’t trust him (Lehoi wasn’t blind; he could tell when someone was suspicious of him). He would find his sister and get out of this rotten place along with her and this new friend of his. Then he’d take care of this human, and make sure he would make sure that nobody would ever hurt him again. 

He applied burn cream to the brand mark, and used some disinfectant to clean the other wounds that had yet to scar. He sat Stan up, noticing the man was rather heavy for a human (though it still took no effort to move him), and cleaned the horrible stitching job on his stomach that seemed to tear with every little movement. The threads used were too weak, he noticed. It was a wonder _that_ wound hadn’t come infected yet. 

He added fresh gauze (being careful not to take too much, less the creatures that owned this disgusting place would notice) as bandages to everything, poked Stan awake. 

Stan let out a tired moan. “Wassup?” He asked groggily, his voice slurring. 

“It’s me, Lehoi,” The Ax-Tel spoke, fully aware that Stan was probably delirious. “I need you to drink some water. You have a fever, and the games are going to begin soon. You need to be able to stand,” 

“Whatta ya’ talkin’ about, Stanford,” The human slurred. His eyes were glassy. Lehoi tried his best not to panic. “We can’t play games, we’re sick. We gotta stay in bed…” 

“Stanford is your brother, right?” Lehoi asked. “And you want to see him again, right?” 

Stan’s eyes went wide, but they still didn’t seem to register the world around him. “See him… See… No I can’t see ‘im. I still haven’t made up for…” 

Lehoi gave up. “Whatever,” He said, filling a glass of water, and holding it to the human’s lips. “Drink this please,” Stan obeyed, much to his relief. “Now put this in your mouth,” He decided to chance it on the pills. They didn’t have many other options. He could hear the noise of chatter and footsteps not far off. The games were going to begin soon. If the two of them didn’t get to the arena in time, they’d be killed. 

The first bell went off. 

“Hurry! Drink this down!” Lehoi babbled. They had to leave, they had to leave, they had to leave… 

Stan took the pill. The moment he swallowed, Lehoi grabbed him by the legs and carried him over his shoulder. He hoped that Stan would be aware enough to at least hold onto his back by the time they got to the arena. Lehoi would need both his hands for the games, and he suspected Stan wouldn’t appreciate being flipped upside down for too long, considering that humans didn’t take kindly to blood rushing to their heads (or was that Cormins? Zeena had always been better at interspecies biology than he was). 

Lehoi ran out of the medical room, and quickly caught up to the other prisoners, and began walking with them. He caught the eye of one of the Buggi’s who had attacked Stan; the one he didn’t squish. The creature glared at him. Lehoi prayed that this creature wouldn’t draw one of the good cards today. 

Stan mumbled something. 

“Stan, what is it?” Lehoi stopped running moving instantly, allowing his friend a break from the movement. “Are you ok?” 

“It’s cold,” 

“But you're sweating and it’s probably 9.64 Watt out here!” Lehoi replied. Was feeling cold a part of a human fever? Ax-Tels never had that symptom. (Granted, Ax-Tels rarely survived fever’s long enough to have much of _any_ symptoms, but then again, human’s where different)

Stan was shaking. “It’s so cold. I wanna go home now. I wanna see mom,” 

There’s a desperation in this man’s voice. Lehoi can tell that wherever Stan came from, he hadn’t seen his mother in a _very_ long time. And if he had come from one of the inaccessible dimensions or planets, it was unlikely he would ever see his mother again. 

“I’m sorry, Stan,” Lehoi murmured quietly. “Just try to stay alive. We can get out of here as soon as I find my sister. Then the two of us will help you find your home, and your brother. I promise. I’ll even make sure you get to see your mother again,” 

Lehoi never did keep that promise. 

* * *

Someone is entering the hospital room. Ford can tell from the sound of footsteps. 

Stan had fallen back to sleep a little while ago. Ford continues to hold his brother close, listening to his breath. It sounded more even and relaxed then it had in years. It was a relief. 

Nobody will hurt his brother again, if Ford has anything to say about it.

He sits up, despite his muscle’s protesting, and comes face to face with a tall young woman with a pixie-cut bob of red hair, dressed in flannel. She looks muscular; strong. Threatening.

“Stay back!” Ford threatens. “I know of several ways to kill you instantly and I will not hesitate to use all of them!” 

“Whoa, dude! Calm down!” The woman holds up her hands in mock surrender. “I’m friends with Dipper and Mabel. They asked me to keep an eye on you,”

Stan reaches out to the vacant spot Ford just left, whimpering. He’s still asleep, but it’s obvious that Ford’s lack of presence is distressing him. 

Ford lays down and holds his brother close, glaring at the woman every so often. He wraps protective arms around his brother, almost daring her to try something. 

He'll kill her if she tries to hurt Stanley. He’ll kill anyone who tries to hurt him. 

“I’m Wendy,” The woman introduces herself, sitting in one of the chairs next to the bed. She then looks at Ford’s casted foot with a raised eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you be elevating that?” 

When Ford didn’t respond, the woman– Wendy– gets out of her chair, and unhooks the sling at Ford’s original bed from the ceiling, and brings it over to where he is now. She hooks it back up, and reaches for his leg. 

Ford kicks at her with the non-broken one, causing Wendy to back up. “Dude, settle down!” She demanded. “I’m just gonna elevate your leg. Nothing else. I won’t touch you or your brother. I’m just elevating the leg,” 

Ford watches her every move, suspiciously. But she’s true to her word. She simply puts his leg in the sling, and then sits back down. 

“Where’s my stuff?” Ford asked her. 

“It’s in a lock-box,” Wendy assures him. “You’ll get it back the moment your released from in here,” 

Ford squints at her. She was one of the people who were in the basement when he stepped out of the portal. She was involved. 

“What did you do?” He demands from her. 

“Uh… Come again?” 

“The Portal! How did you activate it?” Ford snapped, keeping his glare. “Why? What do you know about the Pines twins? Who else knows about it?!” He wants answers. He needs information. Only then can he keep Stanley safe. It does occur to him that this Wendy girl can easily lie to him about everything, but he’d rather have something than nothing. 

“Ok, chill,” She laughs, sounding patient. “One question at a time, dude. What do you want to know first?” 

Though this woman _seemed_ honest enough, one couldn’t be too sure. He gives her a scrutinizing look that would often intimidate all he used it on. She didn’t seem phased. 

She could easily lie to him. She could _easily_ give Ford false answers, hiding the true motives of the ones who opened the portal. But, as always, he’d rather have vague lies that could possibly hold some information in them, than nothing to go on, and therefore no information at all. 

“How did you activate the portal?” He asks her, deciding that would be the first important question. 

Wendy gives him a nonchalant shrug and answers. “We read your crazy books, cracked all your codes, talked to cryptids, put in some elbow grease, and stole a bunch of radioactive waste from the government. You know, normal kid stuff,” She jokes. 

Ford narrows his eyes. The woman’s tone seems honest and genuine, though she could just be a good liar. But that wasn’t what bothered him. What bothered him was how casual she seemed about the entire portal business. 

“You do realize what you did was very dangerous, right?” Ford questions. Wendy’s only response is a shrug, much to Ford’s confusion. “What you did could’ve ended the world. I wrote warnings in my journals, please tell me you where at least somewhat aware of that,” 

Wendy just shrugs again, and Ford can feel impatience creeping in on him. “Dude, you wrote your warnings in invisible ink. We didn’t see them until like, a few years ago, at which point we were _way_ past the point of giving up,” 

“But you did see them,” He scowls. 

“Yeah, but who cares!” Wendy brushes him off. “We met a nice old guy who wanted to see his bro’s again, and two awesome kids who just wanted to make their grandpa happy. How could we have _not_ finished the project,” 

_So, either this group of people are masterminds working for Bill, or they are all incredibly irresponsible idiots_ , Ford concludes to himself, taking extra care not to say that out loud this time. 

“How many people know about this?” Ford demands. Motivations and irresponsibility aside, it would be good to know how wide these people’s circle, and perhaps, consequently, Bill’s circle, was. 

Wendy shrugs again. Ford is starting to get very tired of that movement. “The whole town,” She eventually says, casually, as if he should’ve expected it. 

And honestly, Ford thinks, he should have. Mistrust aside, it was becoming clear that the group of technically-adults-but-still-definitely-children who opened his portal were all _very_ poor decision-makers. They ignored countless warnings, somehow alerted the government, and apparently only got the government to go away because of a law created after an incident involving the dangerous side of supernatural running around ramped thanks to them. Of course they wouldn’t keep such dangerous matters private. It would’ve been ideal to keep the portal project a secret so the wrong hands wouldn’t get to them, and _of course_ , nobody kept it secret. 

“WHAT?!” Ford eventually shouts out. 

Wendy seemed unfazed by his volume. “Yeah, pretty much everyone got in on this project. My dad and his friends did some heavy lifting, I got my friends to help me steal the shit we needed, we bargained with gnomes, Multi-bear was a great help, Lazy Susan would bring us snacks…” 

“Listen,” Ford breathed out. “It’s not like I’m not grateful for what you’ve done. Thanks to your actions, my brother is finally safe,” He turns his gaze to his younger twin, who’s still sound asleep. Every so often, Stan’s face scrunches up into a grimace, and he whimpers out sounds of distress. A sure sign of a nightmare crawling into him. But whenever this would happen, Ford lightly strokes his hair and whispers words of comfort, and Stanley’s face would turn back to one of a peaceful, hopefully deep sleep.

“His safety and happiness is the most important thing to me, so yes, thank you for assuring it, or at least some of it,” Ford sighs, eyeing the bandages and the cast on his brother. Bill’s _plays_ come to the forefront of his mind. The ones he had to sit through plagued his vision whenever he closed his eyes. He couldn’t imagine what it would’ve been like for Stanley, who would be subjected to those plays for days on end, depending on how long Ford’s fetch-quest trips ended up being. Not to mention those plays would be personally tailored to torment his brother in all the worst ways. 

The real Zeena Exlotle would’ve _never_ looked at Stanley with such hatred. 

“But,” Ford continues, giving his attention to Wendy. “The consequences of the actions you took could be dire. There’s are great evils beyond your imagination that are desperate to get their hands on—” 

“You mean Bill?” 

Her interruption takes him by surprise. “What?” 

“Dorito in a top hat,” Wendy elaborates. “That asshole has been harassing us since we started this project. Been trying to make deals with us and shit,” 

“So you know him,” Ford growls. 

“He’s been in my dreams more than once, but I’ve never seen him in person,” Wendy shrugs, though her eyes hold worry. “He kept messing with my friends though. If I ever _really_ meet him, I’m gonna punch him in the eye,” 

“Did anyone you know make a deal with him?” Ford demands. “Did anyone shake his hand?” 

Wendy laughs. “A lot of people actually. The bastard is pretty good at what he does,” A dark look suddenly falls onto her face. “He came to my dad in a dream, and said he could bring our mom back if he shook his hand. It took us a month to get the creep out,” 

Ford’s gut churns in anxiety. There's genuine hatred in Wendy’s voice, and he’s sure that she is at least _not_ an ally of Bills. But her words bring little comfort. This place; Gravity Falls, was not safe from his influence. It hadn’t been thirty years ago when he left it, and it wasn’t now. There wasn’t any way to get away from Bill. The demon would haunt him forever. 

He’d think he’d learn better than to have hope of escaping Bill’s shadow after the last time he’d assumed himself free.

Before he can say anything, he can feel his brother stir. 

“Ford, you’re back,” Stan hums, seeming a bit delirious. “W-where are we?” 

“We’re in a hospital, remember Stanley?” Ford reminds his brother gently, keeping his voice soft. “We got away from Bill. We’re on our original Earth” 

“Right, right,” Stan chuckles softly. “Right, we’re safe,” 

Ford grimaces, knowing that, sure, things may be alright for the moment, but they’re definitely _not_ safe _._

But they’re ok for now. He’d take that. 

“Hey, he’s awake!” Wendy cheers. “Dude, you alright? Dipper and Mabel are worried sick about you,” 

Stan lifts an eyebrow. “And you are?” 

“Wendy,” She says. “I’m part of the team that helped to rescue you guys,” 

Stan nods his head, and stares her down for a few seconds. Ford can tell he’s analyzing her. 

Eventually, his brother shrugs, before hissing out in pain. “Damn it, everything hurts,” He grumbles. Ford carefully pulls Stan closer to him, rubbing circles on his back.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Wendy chimes in from where she’s sitting, “What the hell happened to you two?” 

Stan and Ford share a look, silently communicating. 

_Can we trust her?_

_I don’t know_. 

Stan responds first. “A demon kidnapped and tortured us. Not much too it,” 

“It was Bill, wasn’t it?” Wendy questions. 

Ford can feel his brother shiver. He kept a steady grip on Stan, making sure to keep him grounded to reality. “It’s ok,” He whispers to him. “We’re going to be ok. I won’t let anything hurt you again,” 

Wendy’s face twisted into something bitter. “As if he already hasn’t given me enough reason to kick his ass,” She spat. “Don’t worry. We’ll kill him,” 

She says it with enough conviction that Ford wants to believe her, but even if she was trustworthy, the likelihood that some young woman in her twenties would be enough to kill Bill was slim. 

Ford had been trying to do that for thirty years, and he failed spectacularly. 

“But enough about that, anyways,” Wendy pushes the subject away, for which Ford is grateful. No need to dwell on his failures, or to terrify his brother. Ford would figure out what to do about Bill later. Alone. Away from his brother. 

He was done dragging Stanley into _his_ mess. His brother had paid for _his_ mistakes enough. He wouldn’t let _his_ demons hurt Stan again. 

“I heard from the twins that you had a family. You wanna talk about them?” She asks. 

Stan looks heartbroken, and Ford glares at her. 

“Or not, I guess,” Wendy laughs nervously. “If it’s still a sore spot for you, then—” 

“No,” Stan interrupts, grunting out in pain. Whether the pain is from the injuries or the other thing is up for debate. “It’s alright. I can talk about ‘em,” 

Wendy gives him a sympathetic smile. “I’m serious, if you’d rather not talk about it, that’s fine. Just do whatever your most comfortable with, man,” 

Ford turns away from the girl, looking at his brother. His twin’s broken expression kills him. 

Ford remembered meeting his nephew for the first time like it was yesterday. A cute little boy with curly brown hair and pink-ish frills growing where a human’s ears would have been. Little chocolate colored orbs for eyes, and a small, frilled tail. The boy had been two years old at the time. He’d never seen his brother so happy as when he held the little kid out to Ford for admiration. Stan and Ford had both done some messed up things in their lives, but the existence of that little boy, and eventually his younger sisters, and the boy’s own children, made up for everything. Stan’s smile had been brighter than a thousand suns. 

The moment the Ax-Tel genocide had started, Ford knew he would never see his brother smile like that again. 

“I guess I just miss ‘em,” Stan eventually whispers out, sadly. 

Wendy nods. “Yeah, I get that,” She hums. “It sucks to lose someone” 

That, both twins can agree on. They fall into a silence.

Zeena and Lehoi had quickly become some of Ford’s best friends. And Zeena had been such a good match for Stanley. They held the same energy, both wild in their dreams and passions, but were still enough to drag the other back down to earth if needed. Ford had seen his brother in love before; heck, when Stan was young, the kid was quite girl-crazy ~~and a little bit boy-crazy too, if he really thought about it~~. But the difference between crushes and girlfriends and a wife was significant. There was so much joy in his brother’s eyes. Ford held fond memories of Stan dancing with her, scooping his wife into his arms bridal style, and spinning around with her, before smushing his face into hers and kissing her in a gross yet wholesome display of affection. It was a heartwarming thing to watch. 

Then, of course, there were the children. Meeting Stanford Jr. had been one of the best days of Ford’s life. He had finally been able to understand emotions that had never made sense to him before, such as unconditional adoration and love at first sight. Junior was kind and intelligent, with a curious mind and a thirst for knowledge. He was an artist, much like Stan had been when he was younger. And most admirably, Junior was fiercely protective of his family. The boy had grown into an amazing young man, with his own wife, and a pair of twins to prove it. Watching Stan hold his son’s kids was amazing. It was as if his brother had been made to be a grandfather. And Stanford playful fighting Lehoi over which great uncle would hold the twins first had been a precious memory of its own. 

Sarmin, Stan’s oldest daughter, and the second child, was goofy, wholesome, and a whole lot smarter than she gave herself credit for. She was fiercely loyal, and despite being one of the kindest people Ford had ever met, she wouldn’t hesitate to break the nose of someone who threatened or talked shit about her family. She was strong enough to fight through her numerous self-esteem issues, and brave enough to continue being herself no matter how much shit she was given for it. Ford had wished that he’d been more like her when he was a kid. 

Last but not least of the children had been Caryn; named after their mother. She was bouncy and bubbly; a colorful kid with an unbreakable energy, who craved adventure more than anything. Between the three of Stan’s kids, Caryn had been the one Ford was closest with. She was the one who begged to go on adventures with her uncle as he did his best to take down Bill Cipher. When she turned 15, Stan had deemed her old enough to follow Ford on some of his less dangerous missions, and she had been phenomenal. Always offering her creative insight, courage, and raw determination. She had been clinging to her uncle’s back, cheering Ford on as he shot Bill straight in the eye with his quantum destabilizer, thinking he had finally gotten rid of his enemy for good, and Caryn Exlotle-Pines had been right besides him, celebrating his victory. 

Then Bill came back two years later and took that little ball of spirit away from him. He would make the demon regret that. He’d make Bill regret everything he had ever done to him, his brother, and his brother’s family. 

“Hey, Ford,” Stan suddenly says, disrupting the quiet. “Do you still have the picture?” 

Ford instinctually reaches for the chest pocket of his coat, only to remember he’s wearing a hospital gown. “Ah! Where is it?” He almost panics. 

That picture was the most precious item he and Stan had. If it was lost—,

“Is the thing you want with your clothing? ‘Cause it’s probably in the lock-box, then,” Wendy tells them. “It’s a picture, right? I can go grab it for you if you need me too,” She stands up, pausing in wait for them to give her permission. 

Ford buries his suspicion. He couldn’t imagine what she would want with a photograph, and he didn’t think she was cruel enough to destroy a man’s sacred picture. 

“Yes, please,” Ford answers. “That would be great,”

“Thanks” Stan offers. “It’d be really nice to have that right now,” 

Wendy nods, and leaves the room, leaving the brothers in quiet once again. 

“You should probably get some more sleep,” Ford suggests. 

Stan just laughs, “Jeez, like your one to talk, Sixer. Besides, I’ve been sleeping for a while now. I’m not tired,” He lets out a yawn. 

“Yes, very much not tired,” Ford laughs, rolling his eyes. “Sleep helps to heal injuries, you know,” 

“This isn’t D,D, & more D, Ford,” Stan quips, his voice light. “You can’t magically sleep off the injuries,” 

“Yes, but it does help. I’ve done the science,” 

Stan quirks an eyebrow. “If you’ve done the science why is it still a pain in the ass to get you to sleep?”

“Who needs sleep when there’s coffee?” Ford jokes, knowing very well that he should _not_ be lecturing his brother about sleeping. 

“Does coffee heal injuries?” Stan laughs along with him, before closing his eyes, and taking Ford's advice. “Mmm, ‘night Poindexter,” 

“It’s actually around four o’clock in the afternoon,” Ford corrects. 

“I said _goodnight, Poindexter_ ,” 

Ford chuckles, holding his brother close, and closing his eyes himself. It was peaceful and quiet. Maybe sleep was a good idea. 

The door suddenly slams open, and the twins who were supposedly Pines (It seemed unlikely that they weren’t at this point, but he still had to look into that) came bursting into the room rather loudly. 

“Grunkle Ford! Grunkle Ford! Grunkle Ford!” The girl, Mabel, he remembers her name was, shouts. _What the hell is a Grunkle?_ “Grunkle Ford, wereallyreallyreallyneedyoutotellussomething right now. That demon guy, Bill, theonewhokeepsmessingwithyoutwo, madeyoubuildsomesortofmachine, andhe’sgonnatrytoendtheworldusingitsodoyouthinkyoucanfigureoutwhatitisfromthepartshehadyoucollect?” 

“What?” Ford questioned. Her words were fast and somewhat hard to understand, but he did know she was asking something about Bill, and a machine. 

“Bill made you build something,” Dipper speaks, slower than his sister. “He sent you to collect parts, and then build something. What do you think it was?” 

“How did you know that?!” Ford snaps, once again, laying a protective arm over Stan, despite his brother’s tired protest. Nobody had told those two that specific kind of information. Sure, it may be easy to see that they’d recently escaped Bills torture, what with his signature on them and all, and according to Wendy, Bill had been messing with the town and these two kids for all eight years of the two of them working on their project. But how did they know _why_ Bill had been holding his brother hostage?

“Not important right now,” Mabel said quickly. Dipper gave her a perplexed look. “But we need to know what you were building or the world might end!” 

“What do you mean that’s not important!?” Ford demands. 

“Yeah, Mabel,” Dipper questions his sister, his voice much softer than Fords. “Why don’t you wanna tell them?” 

“Because I just don’t!” Mabel snaps. “Besides, it’s not necessary information at the moment. What _is_ necessary is that—” 

“Why would I tell you anything?” Ford interrupts her. “I don’t _trust_ either of you,” 

“Maybe not them,” Chimes a third voice. “But you trust me, don’t cha?” 

Ford’s eyes widen. His posture is horrible, making him look short and hunched over, and he has a white beard and the demeanor of a hillbilly. But the southern accent, the long nose, and rain-colored eyes are unmistakable. 

“Fiddleford McGucket,” Ford gasps out softly. “Well, I’ll be damned,” 

“That’s my line,” His old friend chimes with a smile. “It’s good to finally see ya again, Stanf’rd,” 

Ford can only stare at the man in amazement, too shocked to say anything. After all these years. He honestly thought he would’ve never seen his friend again. 

Stan sits up slowly, a teasing smile on his face. “Aw, Sixer, is that the 'cute farm boy' you were always going on abou…” His voice stops in its tracks. He’s staring at Dipper with wide eyes.

Stanley suddenly starts to tear up. 

“Goddamn, you were right, Ford. He looks jus’ like my son,” 

* * *

There was a blackness, and Ford fretted for a moment that the wormhole he had jumped into was going to kill him. He was falling towards a bright light, and he didn’t know what was going to happen. 

Suddenly, he exited the wormhole, and fell down into what seemed to be a pile of garbage. 

All around him was the most random of shit. A few broken toilets, a mattress or two, food, what seemed to be an exoskeleton, papers, books, toys, clothes, forks, blenders, and a plumbus. The waste was surrounded by liquid that might have been water, but Ford wasn’t sure. The sky around him was grey, and filled to the brim with hundreds upon thousands of wormholes, each dumping out something arbitrary every few seconds. 

There was a city on the horizon, past the field of junk. Ford slid off the pile, cringing as he landed in the dirty water that soaked into his socks and his _perfectly clean pants goddamn it he just washed those fuckers two days ago, what the hell!?_ He started heading towards it, trying his best not to breathe through his nose. The entire place smelled like old socks. 

Stan was still alive, that Ford was sure of. He didn’t know where Stan was, what was happening to him, if he was safe or not, if he was in pain, or… 

Ford stopped walking, giving him a proper second to think. His brother was still alive. He’d _know_ if Stanley was dead; the alien refugees had said so. ~~Unless their faith in the power of twins was nothing but some pseudo-religious nonsense that had no science behind it but he couldn’t think about that now~~. He had twin powers, and his twin power would tell him. 

If Stan was alive, he could be saved, and he could be found. Ford just had to figure out a way to do it. 

Ford pressed his fingers to his temples, and concentrated really hard, screwing his eyes shut and scrunching his face for added effect. “Twin powers, ACTIVATE!!” He shouted, throwing his fingers into the sky, hoping to unlock whatever dormant power lied in there. 

Nothing happened. He figured as much. “Well, it was worth a shot,” Ford muttered in disappointment. 

He continued his trek to the city. 

It looked to be futuristic; straight out of a sci-fi movie. The closer he got, the more details he could see: the metal was shiny and reflective, the buildings were tall and covered in bright lights, and the skyline was filled with hovercrafts of some kind floating around. He would’ve been absolutely delighted to be in a place like this if he was in any other circumstance. 

He had no idea how he was going to find his brother, or how he was going to destroy Bill Cipher. He knew Stanley had to take priority. He wasn’t sure what his brother had gotten into; he could be in any kind of danger, life threatening or otherwise. Time was limited, and Stan’s life was on the line. He had to put his brother first. 

Ford took a moment to laugh at himself. Here he was, yelling at his brother for putting _his_ safety first, yet _he_ was doing the same thing. 

Maybe he wasn’t as cruel as he thought he would be. The thought gave him little comfort. He still had said terrible things to his real friends. He still made a mistake that almost cost everything. He still abandoned his family. He still dragged his brother into his mess. 

Maybe not flapping hard enough wasn’t Icarus's problem. 

The walk to the city is long and boring, but it gives him time to think. He regretted dragging Stanley into his mess, but he wonders what would’ve happened to his brother if he didn’t. Would he have ever called his brother? Would his brother have called him? They were both stubborn; he didn’t believe Stan would go to him for help. Why would Stan want to drag Ford into _his_ mess if Ford wished he had never dragged Stan into _his_. He had always resented having to clean up after his brother when he was younger, but now that he thought about it, it’d always been the other way around. Whenever Stan was in trouble, he kept it secret from Ford. 

When they were eight years old, Stan had fallen asleep in the class of a teacher that didn’t like him, and was sent to the principal's office. Stan had been freaked out about getting in trouble with his father. So, Ford played a prank on the same teacher, getting himself in trouble as well, so that Stan wouldn’t have to face the consequences alone. 

They’re dad had growled at Stan something fierce after that. 

Stan would take shortcuts as a little kid. He’d get by by lying and cheating, and everyone Ford knew would always ask him _why_ he stuck around his brother. Everyone had always told him his brother was leeching off of him. He was ashamed to have believed it. 

He wished he’d called his mother a little more. He wished he actually took the time to visit Shermie’s family in California. He wished he bothered to try and contact Stan _before_ this whole mess started. He had access to an all-knowing mailbox. Finding his brother would’ve been _easy_ if he had just bothered to try. 

He hoped Fiddleford was doing good. He prayed to god that the memory gun had been destroyed, but a small part of him said it wasn’t. That Fiddleford was still using it. 

If only he’d just _listened_. If only he quit while he was ahead. His twin was gone, his friend was gone, he’d probably never be able to contact the other members of his family again… 

He finally arrived at a barb-wire gate that separated the junk field from the city. Climbing over it was easy enough. 

He trailed through under-ways, avoiding the looks of shady and large aliens that constantly stared. The neighborhoods that sat at the border between the city and the junk pile reminded him of those “bad parts of town” in New Jersey that their mom never let them go into. 

Probably because they weren’t allowed to go into there, Stan took Ford to explore that neighborhood when they were twelve. An older, scary looking man ended up leading them away from even scarier people who seemed ready for a fight. It occurred to Ford now that the two of them might have walked into a gang fight. 

Had Stan been into a gang fight during his travels? Ford didn’t mention it, but he hadn’t missed the scars hidden under chest hair and belly fat. Where had Stan possibly gotten those. 

He didn’t want to take off his shirt, even to let Ford treat his wound. What had been under there that Stan didn’t want his brother to see? 

He hoped his brother was ok. He had two open wounds, one from the brand on his back, and another from the torn stitches in his stomach. He also had a few other recent stitch jobs that may not have torn, but they weren’t that good. The wounds could have possibly been infected by now. If Stan was lucky, whatever place he ended up may have had a hospital, and people kind enough to treat a sick human. 

He didn’t want to think about what would happen if Stan hadn't been lucky. 

“Whatcha got there, human?” A grumbled voice sounds behind him. Ford whips around, pulling out the taser-like weapon that the refugee’s in the nightmare realm had packed for him. He kept it in his head that he’d have to come back for those four at some point. 

The creature was a giant, frog-looking thing. Ford only came up to its belly. 

“If you try to attack me, you’ll regret it!” Ford declared, knowing full well that the thing would be able to kick his ass easily. 

The man laughed. “Listen, human, I know your species doesn't really get out much, but here’s some advice,” The man grabbed Ford by his shirt color and lifted him up to his face. The movement was so sudden and jarring that Ford dropped the taser. “You’re at the Dumping Grounds kid. Everyone here is gonna be bigger and tougher than you, a human, can ever be, so don’t provoke us,” 

The frog man threw Ford onto the ground. He landed roughly, letting out a yelp. He scrambled to grab his weapon, but his opponent easily crushed it under his foot. “Just give me your shit, and I won’t have to pull it off your corpse,” He bargained. 

Fighting was obviously the stupid option. So, Ford got up and ran. 

He sprinted quickly as he could, adrenaline pumping into his legs as the alien shouted at him. He heard the sound of a heavy feat chasing him. 

_Don’t look back, don’t look back, don’t look back, don’t look back!!!_

There was a crowded street one ally away. He made a break for it. He’d blend in with the crowd, and the mugger couldn’t do much against him without making a scene. He’d just shuffle through, until he could find a decent enough samaritan to tell him where he was, what was going on, and how to get access to other dimensions. Each alien in the crowd was a different shape, size, and color, from each other. This “Dumping Ground”, as the mugger had called it, was obviously some inter-dimensional drop-off point. 

A big fist grabbed him by the head and he was shoved to the ground. Everything went black. 

When Ford woke up, his coat, and all his stuff were gone. The only thing he had left on him was his torn-up button-up, his T-shirt, and his pants. The mugger even took his shoes. Ford looked at his wrist, hoping that the guy at least let him keep his interdimensional translator. 

“Oh, thank heavens, I still have it!” Ford cried joyously upon seeing the watch-like contraption still attached to his wrist. If he didn’t have that, he wasn’t sure how he’d possibly get bye. As much as he succeeded in math, science, literature, art, and history, his extra language tended to elude him. He managed to crawl through Latin holding a B, and his Greek was still messy. Stanley had always been much better at learning foreign languages. 

Stan had told him that he was easily able to pick up on the lessons in his German classes because language was something you learned by listening, which had always been much easier for Stan than learning from books. His twin was more of a hands-on kind of person; a creative type, their mother had said. Plus, Stan had always told him that the words on a page always looked floaty and mixed up. Reading had never come easy for his brother. 

Ford took a brief moment to wonder if Stan’s reading trouble was something to do with his eyes, or his cognitive abilities. Maybe both. Maybe there was a way to help him. 

Maybe he should’ve been more patient with his brother when they were young. Maybe they could’ve stuck together, and none of this would’ve ever happened. If anyone could’ve stuck it to Bill before he had even tried anything, it would’ve been his brother. 

Ford walked out into the crowd. He still had his translator on hand, thank heavens, but he had no other resource. No weapons, no food, no water, no money (Had the refugees even given him any money? Would this place have accepted his currency?) 

The city was crowded, and each intake of air Ford breathed felt as if it was full of smoke. He took his tie and tied it around his mouth and nose to limit the dust, though it was arguable whether or not that made breathing easier or harder, or if it even had any effect. 

Silver buildings reached into the air, each one covered at every angle with neon signs flashing advertisements for various things, both recognizable, and unrecognizable. Two aliens that looked like cows sat on one screen in what appeared to be a news broadcast. A troupe of overly peppy alien girls who’s skin where each different colors of the rainbow, danced happily on a commercial for some sort of drink. It reminded Ford very much of a futuristic version of what he heard New York City to be like, though he never had visited the place, despite it being so close to home. 

The screens all suddenly changed to a “special announcement”, from the one’s displaying advertisements to the ones with tv shows. The purple title card faded away to a picture of a humanoid woman with a large amount of curly blue hair, and tattoos all over her face and body. She was dressed in an overly-elegant ball gown, with gems of all kinds adorning every inch of her outfit. She wore a glittering crown atop her head, clearly marking her as some sort of monarch of this place. 

“You poor dears of the Dumping Grounds, who have been displaced from their homes. You may be lost, unwanted, and forgotten. But I assure you, that I, your Queen, have found you. If you are unwanted, I will want you. If you are forgotten, then I will remember you. As long as you continue to serve your queen, I will continue to serve you. There is no way off of this place, but I assure you, you will never need to be anywhere else. 

You may have heard words of a rebellion stirring in the Clocks District. These rumors are unfortunately true; there are many horrible and ungrateful people in this world that hope to disturb the peace. So, would you, my sweet, and loyal citizens, do a kind favor for the queen that took you in so lovingly? Would you kindly do your best to help me _quench_ this rebellion,” 

Ford tuned out the rest of this “Queen’s” speech, but glared up at her image on screen. She was a manipulator; he could tell that instantly. Now that he knew what signs to look for, he could easily spot them. 

He mulled over her speech, going over her words in his head with suspicion. She claimed that there was no way off the Dumping Ground. He supposed he’d just have to ask her personally if her claim was true. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we go! We get some action from Lehoi (I hoped you liked him. He's my bean), and some more story. Past Ford is up and on his way to search for his brother, and past Stan is making friends. 
> 
> I hope you like the family picture I drew. I worked pretty hard on it, and I'm plenty proud of how it turned out. You can probably figure out which kid is which. 
> 
> If you got a suggestion, question, or prediction, leave it in the comments! I love reviews more than life itself, and would be happy to get a few! 
> 
> Thank you!

**Author's Note:**

> And there we have it folks! Wether you came from here or Tumblr, I hope you found this enjoyable. 
> 
> Review please!


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